


My Heart's A Little F*cked On You

by Dr_Fumbles_McStupid, SpiderKatana



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Both of them deserve a hug and they get it, Childhood Friends, Explicit Language, It's Wade, It's literally for like two minutes I promise, La vie en rose, M/M, Peter Parker is a cinnamon roll, Reunions, SpideypoolBigBang, Very Temporary Major Character Death, Wade Knows French, first crushes, good luck charms, so is Wade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-21
Updated: 2020-02-21
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:39:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 26,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22834171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dr_Fumbles_McStupid/pseuds/Dr_Fumbles_McStupid, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpiderKatana/pseuds/SpiderKatana
Summary: When Peter was forced to leave his childhood best friend (and first crush) behind, he didn’t think he’d ever see him again. He definitely wasn’t expecting Deadpool, the first person he'd really felt safe with since then– to be the same boy who gave him an over-sized Captain America hoodie, threw rocks at Flash Thompson, and used to calm Peter down by softly singing La Vie En Rose.AKA The One With The Silver Unicorn Charm Necklace.
Relationships: Peter Parker/Wade Wilson
Comments: 55
Kudos: 865
Collections: Spideypool Big Bang - The 2019 Collection





	My Heart's A Little F*cked On You

**Scene 1: In The Beginning**

There was a stinging sensation along the edge of his cheekbone, but that wasn’t anything new. Peter was getting used to the bruises, small cuts and the occasional smattering of yellow from burst capillaries. He didn’t originally know what any of these things meant, but the number of times he’d spent hiding in the school library in self-imposed isolation meant that he knew a lot more about science and generally any topic than any seven year old had any real business knowing. 

Today, though, he hadn’t made it to his private little sanctuary on time and when he  _ had _ reached the heavy wooden doors and tried to pull them open, he’d felt the air leaving his lungs when they stayed rooted in place no matter how hard he tugged at them. It was closed, the reason didn’t matter. What mattered was that Peter was being cornered by three of his classmates, boys much larger than he was, stronger than he was,  _ better _ than he was. 

When Flash grabbed a hold of him, Peter squeezed his eyes shut and hoped that this time the bruise wouldn’t be so obvious. Aunt May was so worried about him all the time because of how supposedly clumsy he was, but she had enough to worry about. Peter wasn’t an adult by any means, but he knew what rent was and what late notices and threats of eviction meant. The pile growing on the kitchen counter didn’t mean anything good for Aunt May or Uncle Ben, and the reality was that Peter was scared. 

The day of his seventh birthday, Aunt May had taken him out to eat at a tiny restaurant and Peter had been ecstatic to have something that wasn’t based in potatoes. He’d been happy right up until he woke up to use the bathroom and walked past the kitchen, freezing when he caught a glimpse of Aunt May crying and wiping frustratedly at her eyes until Uncle Ben rose from his own stool by the kitchen counter- where he’d crumbled up a paper- and he walked over and hugged her. 

The image of his aunt, strong and proud and always doing everything she could for him, crying silently with deep breaths and heaving shoulders as Uncle Ben pulled her into his chest was… it was something Peter didn’t want to remember and it made him all that more determined to  _ never _ cause his Aunt any pain. 

Flash made that impossible. 

Peter was bent over on his knees, stomach aching, lungs tightening from the strain of his fear, and to make matters worse, Peter could already feel the residual pain of a nice red fist mark on the side of his face, the kind of strike that would turn blue and fade into a yellowing edge before it was gone entirely. He could feel an onslaught of helpless tears pooling in his eyes because he tried so hard to befriend Flash, to be kind and thoughtful the way Aunt May was, but it wasn’t enough. 

He started choking out little whimpers in spite of his best efforts to keep quiet. When he talked or begged Flash to stop, Flash always took it a step further and Peter wanted this to be over with so that he could just cry in peace. 

He waited for the third hit to make contact, to bruise him, but when it didn’t come, he came to realize that the people around him had lapsed into dead silence, a quiet that startled him enough to hesitantly peek one eye open. Flash had a bright red cut on his left eyebrow and his eyes were furious, tears rising to the surface. He was very still, face angrier than Peter had ever seen it and the rest of the kids around were staring away from Peter.  _ Why weren’t they watching him get hurt? They always watched. _

And then the answer became obvious. 

From a few yards away, a tall, older boy in a Captain America hoodie far too big for him had a slingshot in his hands aimed at Flash. 

Peter stared with complete disbelief at this boy, this boy with crystal blue eyes that took exaggeratedly slow steps towards Flash with a wide grin and a look of pure amusement as he finally reached him. He took another rock from his hoodie pockets, aiming his slingshot right at Flash's face who stared up angrily, and said, "Why don't I cut you like you cut him? We can fight like heroes and bad guys! Like cops and robbers! Like-" 

Flash interrupted him with a harsh,  _ "This is none of your business-" _

And Blue Eyes shot a rock point-blank at Flash's nose, sending Flash to the ground like the child he was, tears pouring down his cheeks as fast as blood poured down his chin. 

Kids were coming up to him, trying to help him in a way they never tried to help  _ Peter,  _ or asking the tall boy, probably a good foot taller than Peter and stronger than him for sure,  _ what was wrong with him, _ but Peter just stood absolutely still and stared in awe. His mouth was dropped wide open. Anyone who looked at him would see the  _ stars in his eyes  _ and, as Blue Eyes ignored everyone around him, he noticed Peter's staring, and winked at him-- with no hesitation or embarrassment. 

That smug look soon turned into a worried look the longer the boy watched him, and it slowly became obvious to Peter that he must have looked horrible. The reminder of how bruised he was made him turn and run, climbing up a tree by the cafeteria and hiding in the thick branches as tiny sobs wracked through his body because there was no way he could hide that from Aunt May. 

It was hard to breathe when he cried and he  _ hated _ it, but it was normal for him. He didn't even cry from pain anymore. It was always the idea that Aunt May would be worried about him and she’d try to take him to a hospital when they couldn't  _ afford a hospital _ that shredded his control. 

He was so preoccupied with rubbing his palms against his eyes that he didn’t notice someone climbing up to his spot and sitting on the thick branch beside him. He didn’t even register it until there was a soft voice singing to him, clear as day and he nearly fell out of the tree but a fist wrapped into his shirt and steadied him, wide eyed and shocked as he looked into bright cheerful blue eyes. 

The melody continued in spite of Peter’s frozen form, just quiet little syllables in a language Peter didn’t recognize. 

_ Des yeux qui font baisser les miens _

_ Un rire qui se perd sur sa bouche _

_ Voilà le portrait sans retouches _

_ De l'homme auquel j'appartiens _

_ Quand il me prend dans ses bras _

_ Il me parle tout bas _

_ Je vois la vie en rose  _

Peter felt himself relaxing as the words went on, leaning back against the trunk of the tree even as he cried. He wasn’t sure what the boy was playing at, singing to him, but it was so beautiful that Peter was willing to take any punches that might come because of it. 

“Heya, Baby Boy.” 

“I… I’m not a baby,” Peter mumbled, voice trembling as tears kept sliding down his cheeks. 

The boy in the oversized hoodie gave him a big smile and rose a hand up to wipe Peter’s tears away and Peter froze on the branch because his hand was so soft and he didn’t know if this was normal, only Aunt May ever really did that for him. Was it just something nice people did for each other? Did that mean this boy was as nice as Aunt May? 

“I dunno, I think you’re kind of like a baby. Crying and all, but still cute. Baby-like!” he replied, gesturing an arm widely toward Peter and rotating his hand as if to point out all the ‘babyness’ of the way Peter acted. 

Peter pouted at just another person chasing him down to make fun of him and he felt more angry tears rising up in his eyes and the boy immediately grabbed Peter’s face and said, “No! No, don’t  _ cry! _ Babies are good! Babies are great! Babies are like, funny and stuff, no tears, no tears-” 

He was leaning so close to Peter with worried blue eyes and Peter just couldn’t handle their proximity. His face was getting really really hot and he didn’t know why but it  _ needed to stop. _

“I- whatever! If you want to make fun of me just… just  _ don’t,” _ Peter said, voice breaking on the last word. He knew asking someone not to make fun of him wouldn’t stop them, but he always tried because Aunt May taught him to make his feelings clear and Peter always held out hope that  _ someone _ would listen to him. 

“I don’t want to make fun of you! You’re like, the  _ prettiest-” _

Peter’s face kept heating up and he was not okay with this. The weather wasn’t even horrible. He didn’t know what was causing it and he wondered if maybe he had a fever. He just really hoped he wouldn’t need to go to the doctor. 

“I’m not pretty,” Peter grumbled, pout still in place. “And- and I can’t even cover these-” 

He pointed at his face and the kid beside him nodded twice, his hoodie falling from his head and revealing a head of wavy blonde hair that fell softly around his face. Peter was staring at the way one strand of hair was slightly curlier than the rest at the top of Wade’s head and it lay elegantly over the rest of the softer waves of ash blonde. It was… different. Pretty. Peter wondered why the boy decided to wear such a huge hoodie. 

A hand patted down his shoulder again and pulled him out of his thoughts and then Peter saw this kid, this  _ stranger _ pull off his huge Captain America hoodie and wrap it around Peter’s shoulders. “There!” he said with a smile, “Just wear my jacket and everyone will be like, oh he looks so small in that! And no one will look twice!” 

Peter sniffled a couple times, thinking about how big the hoodie was and how warm and comfy it was before he realized that it could cover most of his face, just until he could get home and find Aunt May’s makeup. 

He sniffed one more time, trying to swallow around the lump in his throat, and sent a shaky little smile at this strange boy who was helping him for seemingly no reason. 

Blue eyes blinked at him and then, “You’re just so cute! Like a puppy! But cuter! I’m Wade!” 

Peter blinked back and wiped at his face to try and appear somewhat presentable as he introduced himself. “Hello. I’m Peter. Peter Parker.” 

“Oh! We’re alliteration buddies! Ms. Key said when names start with the same letter-” 

Peter scowled then and said, “I know what alliteration is! So… your last name starts with a W?” 

Luckily, Wade didn’t seem to take offense to Peter defensive snap because he just wrapped an arm around Peter’s shoulders again and said, “Wilson! Though, I dunno. Mom’s last name is Warner and I think I want hers more, but she says names don’t work like that.” 

Peter nodded, unsure why Wade’s last name really mattered to him so much and trying to be nice because Wade was nice to him, so he replied, “Wilson is a nice name.” 

Wade  _ beamed _ at him, gave him a little hug, and Peter didn’t really say much after that. He just couldn’t seem to stop staring and he didn’t know why Wade was so interesting, but Peter didn’t really think he wanted to look away. It was better to look at Wade than at anyone else. He listened to Wade talk for a good three hours, about school and drawings and dinosaurs and how Captain America was his hero which made Peter smile because Captain America was his hero too, and Peter got so lost in this strange boy who had to be two years above him that he didn’t hear the bell ring. He didn’t go to class and he didn’t even  _ realize it _ until classes were let out and kids started pouring out to the school gates. 

He started frantically climbing down to leave, but Wade stopped him with a hand on his wrist and he looked so  _ sad _ that Peter stopped moving immediately and waited. 

“You… you won’t forget me, right?” 

That was… weird. They had spent hours talking! Wade saved Peter from Flash! Of course he wouldn’t forget him! It seemed oddly important to Wade, though, so Peter shook his head slowly.

“I’ll never forget you, you’re Wade,” he said, giving a tiny smile and saying, “Wade Wilson.” 

Wade didn’t look convinced by Peter’s words and looked out toward the gates before glancing back down at Peter and sticking out his right hand, extending his pinky. “Pinky promise?” 

He tried to smile, but it still looked so sad that Peter hastily stuck out his own pinky and linked them together with a heartfelt and sincere, “Pinky promise!” 

Wade smiled at him again, a real one, and Peter didn’t stop thinking about it, or that strange beautiful song he’d never heard, for the rest of the day. 

**Scene 2: Sharing Oreos**

The next time Flash hit Peter was in class. Wade wasn’t there to see it, and Peter didn’t have the strength or courage to stop it, so he bundled himself up in Wade’s captain America hoodie and hoped that this time when the teacher noticed, she would do something about it instead of ignoring it. 

She didn’t. 

Peter hid in his favorite tree by the cafeteria again, the middle one of the three that the school had planted, and he felt grateful that at least this time the bruise would be on his back and he wouldn’t have to lie to Aunt May about an accident during dodgeball. 

That’s where Wade found him, and he immediately climbed up the tree with all of the ease that never came naturally to Peter. Wade was amazing. Since their little talk, Wade had tried teaching him things and Peter never ceased to be amazed at how good Wade was at sports and just moving himself in a way that never came off as clumsy or awkward. Wade was just… wonderful. Peter felt jealous, but he struggled to be upset about it because Wade was literally the nicest person Peter had ever met and it was hard to be mad at him, especially because it wasn’t  _ his _ fault that Peter was just small and easily hurt. 

Wade clapped him on the back in greeting and Peter flinched  _ violently _ because it just happened to be the same spot that Flash left a mark on. He tried to play it off, but Wade instantly straightened up and instead of his regular, “Heya, Baby Boy,” or, “Petey!” his tone of voice became low and angry as he asked, “Was it him again?” 

Peter avoided eye contact as he mumbled, “Y-yeah, but it’s okay. It’s just Flash-” 

Wade breathed in twice before saying something under his breath that Peter couldn’t really hear, but that terrified him anyway. He didn’t want Wade to hurt Flash. Every time he did, Flash just hit Peter harder and Peter was  _ scared, _ but then Wade just smiled at him and it didn’t dissipate his fear in the slightest. 

He was not sure how Wade could see through him so easily, but the moment Wade glanced up at him and saw him completely still, he started singing again. It was that same song, so sweet, so slow, so  _ soft _ and it almost made Peter want to curl up on the tree branch and fall asleep but he knew that was not a safe thing to do, given how high up they were. Instead, he just let himself watch Wade, blue eyes shut lightly as he let these unbearably smooth words roll off his tongue and Peter wished he could tell Wade it was beautiful, but the idea made his chest feel weird and tight and he didn’t really think that was a safe thing to do either, even if he wasn’t sure why. 

He’d been so focused on trying to remember the lyrics that he didn’t notice Wade’s hand had settled over his until the last verse and when he  _ did _ notice, he turned bright pink at the realization that a fourth grader was  _ holding his hand. _

He tried not to look at their hands, to pretend it wasn’t a big deal because he never understood why the other kids made it a big deal, but it  _ felt _ like a big deal and Peter thought maybe he should pull his hand away but he  _ really didn’t want to.  _

When Wade finished and caught him staring, Peter fumbled for an excuse, but he couldn’t find one and he muttered lamely, “What… what song is that?” 

He didn’t really find it easy to talk to people- not like other kids could- and even though he still struggled around Wade, he felt… safe. Wade wouldn’t judge him or laugh at him or tell him he’s a nerd for liking science stuff. He just listened to Peter whenever Peter wanted to talk and it was really nice to finally have a friend. Peter had never had a friend before. 

Wade blinked twice and then went really quiet and mumbled, “My mom… my mom sings it when I’m sad. You know, because she… she’s… she just does it because I’m emotional.” 

Peter thought that was sort of nice. Sweet. Aunt May never sang to him, but he’d heard Aunt May try to sing and he didn’t think he was missing out on much there. It would be nice though, to have someone sing the song Wade sang to him. It made Peter feel like things would be okay. He decided to say, “That’s nice. She sounds like a nice person. I mean, I’ve never had a mom. I know May is like my mom, but she never lets me call her mom. She said it’s disrespectful to her sister, but… I never met her sister. It would be nice to have a mom, I think, if she sang like that.” 

Wade stared off into the road, beyond the school gates and then a soft smile grew on his face. “Yeah. She’s… she’s a really good mom.” 

He still looked sad, but Peter didn’t really know what to do about that, so he changed the subject. They had a long argument about whether or not Captain America or Iron Man was a better hero, an argument that Wade won by saying, “Iron Man is basically a toaster, Peter. Like, a robot on steroids but still a toaster.” 

Peter pretended he was extremely offended and climbed down the tree to walk away, but Wade tackled him from behind, wrapping him up in a hug that made his hoodie five times as warm. 

"I'm sorry, Petey-pie! Don't leave me! Life would be  _ terrible _ without you, so boring- I  _ can't do it- _ don't make me do the thing, Baby Boy! You can't be mad at me! You have to be happy with me again! I'll stay here until you accept! I'll  _ hug you until you like me again! _ " Wade shouted, a string of apologies on his tongue that made Peter soften almost immediately. 

He really couldn't be mad at Wade. He settled into the hug, comfortable in the embrace, and finally gave in with a quiet little noise of comfort as he hugged Wade back. "'M not mad at you," he mumbled into the soft fabric of Wade's t-shirt. 

Wade pulled back only an inch, his smile bright and vibrant in Peter's view. "You're not? Perfect! I knew you loved me more than Iron Pan!" 

Peter snorted loudly, shamelessly, in the way only a carefree child could. He didn’t really like Iron Man better, as made evident by his love and abduction of Wade’s oversized Captain America hoodie, but he did know a lot about the man because he read the guy’s biography and he just wanted to give Wade something to focus on. A smiling Wade was the best Wade. With that in mind, Peter grinned and said, "Okay. But you have to love me too." 

He saw this as an even trade. Aunt May loved him, so Peter loved her too. It was the same with Uncle Ben. That's just how love worked. Or so Peter thought. That didn't explain the way his stomach felt weird when Wade practically screeched, "Of course I love you!" There was a look of shock on his face, like it had never occurred to him that Peter didn't already know that, and then he shouted, "I can prove it!" 

Peter felt hot. Maybe sick. Maybe it was the weather. But even then, his hands still felt cold inside his mittens, so probably not. He didn't have time to think about it because suddenly Wade brought out a pack of Oreos and tore the side open, holding out the package to Peter and smiling nervously. "Cookie?" 

It was the first time Peter had really seen Wade look nervous, and the look made him feel even more sick and concerned and he wanted Wade to smile. After all, Wade  _ never _ offered to share his cookies. Silently, with eyes full of hope and worry and nerves all at once, Peter reached out for a cookie. 

The way Wade smiled at him after, like Peter did something  _ right, _ made him decide that the world was a better place when his best friend was smiling. It was happier. 

  
  


**Scene 3:** **A New Hoodie**

Peter told Aunt May about Wade. She seemed extremely enthusiastic about the fact that he made a friend, even though her smile became a little crooked when Peter mentioned things like how pretty Wade’s voice sounded or how happy Wade made him feel or how warm Wade’s hoodie felt and how Peter never wanted to take it off. She always gave Uncle Ben this look that Peter  _ wanted to understand _ but just couldn’t and it made him a little angrier than it really should have. After all, Peter  _ was  _ seven years old. Almost eight! He had a right to know things, especially if they centered around him. He once told her about his belief that Wade was prettier than Captain America and then promptly stomped to his room when she chuckled and gave Uncle Ben another  _ look _ because it wasn’t funny! Peter was being  _ serious! _

He forgave her when she told him he could invite Wade over for his birthday. She also gave his teacher birthday invitations for everyone in his class, but Peter didn’t care about them. He wasn’t expecting any of them to show up anyway, and just as he suspected, the day of his birthday only one guest showed up: Wade. 

Peter was  _ beaming _ at the front door when he opened it and Wade was behind it, giving him a bright smile and wearing a new hoodie. 

"Heya, Petey-pie," he greeted cheerfully, dimples showing on his face. 

Peter pulled Wade in a soft hug, trying to encircle him with his arms and failing due to his size and stature. It was  _ immensely _ frustrating. 

"Hi, Wade," Peter replied. "New sweater?" 

Wade posed proudly in his new article of clothing, fists resting on his hips as if he had a cape flowing behind him in the wind. Except he didn't and the stand looked ridiculous and made Peter chuckle into his hands. Wade glared at him and petulantly muttered, "'S a good look! And it's red!" 

Peter nodded in agreement. It was indeed very red. It was different, though. It still had a Captain America Logo but the sweater itself was larger, even more oversized than the last one. "How come this one's bigger?" 

Wade huffed and claimed, "I'm a growing boy, Petey! I need the space to move!" He finally hugged back tighter, making him feel super comfy and pleased and then he added, "And this means you get to keep my old one." 

Peter had a present from Aunt May and Uncle Ben, a new set of chemistry and biology textbooks which he adored the moment he saw them-- his curiosity getting the best of him and making him browse through the first chapters the second he got them out of the wrapping paper-- but Wade's hoodie was his favorite present. It was soft and warm and it felt almost more like he was walking around with a small cozy blanket than wearing an actual sweater. The most important part was that it reminded him of Wade and Wade made him feel safe so the hoodie was his shield. 

He spent the whole of his birthday eating cookies with Wade and drawing different heroes to see who could draw them better and laughing at things Wade said to him, like how he’d nicknamed Iron Man, ‘Tin Can,’ or how he was going to grow up to be a Samurai because he wanted to hold a sword, “Like a badass!” 

Wade seemed to like heroes because of their strengths and powers, but then Peter explained, "I like them because they make the world feel safe, like I can go anywhere, do anything, be what I want to be, and I won't get hurt. They're like…" Peter paused, thinking about who he could compare heroes to. Aunt May kept him safe at home, and so did Uncle Ben, but if there was anyone that protected him from physical harm, well. He knew who heroes reminded him of. He met Wade's eyes and gave a genuine, heartfelt smile as he shoved his hands into his hoodie pockets. "They're like you." 

There was a strange look on Wade's face. For a second, Peter was confused by the wide eyes and the pink cheeks and then a noise distracted him. Aunt May had briefly introduced herself to Wade at the door, but she had stayed in the kitchen with Uncle Ben for a long time afterwards, hushed whispers echoing down the corridor that weren't clear enough for Peter to understand but just loud enough to reach the living room. She sounded almost… angry, but that wasn't it. She sounded the way she did when she told Uncle Ben they should spend less on something: worried and protective, every wasted penny making her frown deeper in a way that made Peter sad. Wade was the only friend Peter had and the only person in the house Aunt May didn't really know; there wasn't anyone else for her to feel upset about. 

For that reason, he had been nervous about introducing him to Aunt May, but surely  _ no one  _ could dislike Wade. Wade was perfect. Wade was beyond reproach. 

Aunt May didn’t seem to believe the same thing because when she came out of the kitchen with cupcakes and looked at him, she kept glancing back and forth between them and then she said, “Well, it’s nice to  _ officially _ meet you, young man. Peter has said many lovely things about you.” Peter immediately flushed red and looked away, uncertain of why he felt so uncomfortable as Aunt May went on, “He didn’t mention you were older than him. Or… taller.” 

Peter blinked at her in confusion, because he  _ did _ say Wade was taller than him. Wade was in the fourth grade! Of course he was taller than Peter. He was a good foot taller and strong enough to defend Peter from the bullies, even if Aunt May didn’t necessarily know about that. 

Wade stood very still after Aunt May said that, as if it was a  _ bad thing _ and then he looked up at Aunt May, obviously understanding something that Peter didn't because he quietly confessed, “I-- Petey is my only friend.” 

It sounded like he was trying to explain himself, but Peter didn’t know why and he felt like it wasn’t a good subject to talk about. 

He looked so sad and Peter felt  _ horrified, _ because he hadn’t realized Wade was also as lonely as he was. He didn’t know what it was about Aunt May's words that made him react so defensively, but Peter  _ instantly _ glared at her. Her eyes widened briefly at Peter's mildly aggressive reaction, a flash of surprise and then something that Peter couldn't place crossing her face before she gave them a soft smile and said, “Then I’m sure you’ll be best friends.” 

She seemed to like Wade more after that conversation, and while Peter didn’t know what made her act strange about him in the first place, he was happy she saw whatever she needed to see to like him because Wade was always the best part of Peter’s day. 

He was so happy to have him around, to spend time with him, to have someone in his life that lived like one of the heroes. 

He was happy...

Until the day Wade didn’t show up to school. 

**Scene 4:** **The Necklace**

Wade was gone for a week. Peter was worried sick, so much so that he wasn’t sleeping because Wade  _ never _ missed a day of school. He might have skipped class after recess or lunch, but he never stayed home. In fact, Peter looked so sick that even Flash didn’t touch him. 

He waited as patiently as he could and only cried once when Aunt May asked him what was wrong and he told her that he was scared he would never see Wade again. 

She held him tight and just let him talk about Wade as much as he liked, and when Peter told her he didn’t even know what the song Wade sang to him was called, she asked him to sing it for her. The best Peter could do was hum the tune, but she immediately showed him a song,  _ La Vie En Rose, _ and though it wasn’t the way  _ Wade _ sang it, it still helped calm him down. She found the French version for him and Peter immediately swore he would learn French so that he could sing it like Wade did, so that they could sing it  _ together _ if Wade ever came back. 

And Wade did come back. 

But he wasn't the same. Peter tried to run after him and ask what had happened and Wade’s big blue eyes weren’t half as bright as they used to be. He looked paler, even more sick than Peter looked, and his hair was matted and flat. 

Wade just told him, in the saddest tone Peter had ever heard, “Go to class, Petey.” 

And Peter stood in place, shock filtering through him because Wade  _ never _ told him to go to class. Peter was always the one telling him that they should go to class, that the teachers would call their parents, that they would get in trouble. Something was  _ wrong, _ but Peter didn’t know what it was. Had he done something wrong? Did Wade hate him now? Did he see Peter the same way everyone else saw him now? 

Peter was nearly in tears in class and when recess came he ran straight toward Wade and wrapped his smaller arms around his best friend’s middle and held tight because he was  _ terrified that this would be the last time Wade hugged him. _

He was relieved when Wade hugged him back just as tightly, but then he saw that Wade’s eyes were suspiciously wet and he almost asked if he was okay, but Wade took hold of his hand, linked their fingers to the jeers of the rest of the second graders- Peter noticed that the fourth graders were all avoiding looking at Wade and they all seemed sad too, but nowhere near as sad as Wade- and led him to their tree. Wade didn’t climb up. He just sat on the tree roots and kept his knees close to his chest, holding Peter’s hand and closing his eyes. When he opened them, the whites were pink and Peter felt like his heart was dying just looking at Wade and not knowing what was wrong, not knowing how to fix it. 

Wade gave him a tiny, broken smile and squeezed his hand and Peter tentatively tried to smile back before dropping all pretenses and saying, “Wade, what- what happened-” 

“Nothing, Petey-pie. Nothing happened. I promise.” 

It was a lie, and Peter  _ knew it, _ but he didn’t want to call Wade a liar and make him mad, he just wanted to hug him and tell him things would be okay. 

Then, just when Peter was trying to figure out what to say, Wade pulled out a silver chain from his pocket with a small silver pendant. He held it out for Peter and Peter stared at the tiny silver unicorn in awe. The chain was far too long for Peter, but he was used to oversized things by now and he didn’t care about the size of anything Wade wanted to give him. He would wear it so long as it came from Wade. 

“It’s yours,” Wade said. And Peter almost smiled, but Wade sounded…  _ heartbroken _ to part with it and Peter didn’t want the necklace if giving it away was going to make Wade  _ cry. _

“Wade, it’s- if it’s important then I don’t-” 

He tried to voice a protest, to convince Wade to take it back, to make him feel better, but Wade pulled him into a hug so damn warm and tight and desperate that it took Peter’s breath away. 

“Just take it, Petey. I want you to have it.” 

Peter shook his head, frustrated and helpless little tears rising in his eyes, and pushed it into Wade’s hands, but Wade simply rose the necklace over Peter’s head and let it rest around Peter’s neck, smiling softly and saying, “There. It looks good on you, Petey-pie.”

Peter grabbed both of Wade’s hands in his, the first tear falling down his cheek as he asked, “Wade. Please.  _ What’s wrong? _ Talk to me, I-” 

Wade just blinked back his own tears and sat beside Peter, pulling one hand away and sitting closely like nothing was wrong, like their day was normal, like he hadn’t been on the verge of tears. He knocked one shoulder softly into Peter’s and Peter looked back and forth between blue eyes, trying to read them and failing as Wade said, “I’m just jealous, Baby Boy, you’re gonna get all the luck now! There won’t be any left for me.” 

He said it with a crooked smile and Peter didn’t know what was wrong, he was so thrown by the turn of conversation that he tried to keep up but probably failed with the words, “So.. so it’s lucky?” 

He wasn’t the least bit interested in whether or not it was lucky. He just wanted Wade to take it back. It felt wrong to have it, like it meant more than Wade wanted to tell him and Peter had never felt more afraid, not even when Flash decided to make him a target. 

Wade kept up that same smile, not quite real but not fake, almost like he had precious little to be happy about as he quietly stated, “Yeah. My mom said so. I don’t think it works for us, but I’m hoping it works for you.” 

“Why wouldn’t it work for you?” Peter blurted out, unsure of what exactly Wade was saying to him. It felt so much more important than it seemed, but Peter couldn’t piece it together and it felt like trying to read one of his parents’ old Calculus books from the attic. 

Wade’s hand tightened around Peter’s and he just grinned, but it looked  _ nothing _ like Wade’s usual grin as he replied, “Don’t worry about it, Petey. Just trust me! I know best!” 

Peter  _ did _ trust Wade, but this wasn’t like Wade and even though they spent the rest of recess talking and throwing what felt like hollow jokes back and forth, Peter felt empty when the bell rang and Wade hugged him like they might never see each other again before pulling away and avoiding Peter’s eyes, telling him for a second time that he should go to class. 

Peter did, necklace heavy around his neck, hoodie nowhere near as warm as it used to feel. 

When Peter came out of class for lunch, Wade was gone. 

Wade didn’t come back for the rest of the school year, but Peter desperately held onto hope that he would come back the next year, because Wade  _ had _ to come back. 

And then Aunt May told him that her old employer in New York wanted to give her her old job back as a nurse because the hospital was doing better financially. It was an opportunity that she and Uncle Ben couldn’t turn down and Peter broke down sobbing as he realized that meant they would have to leave Quebec, that he would have to leave the school district, that he would  _ never see Wade again.  _

**Part 2, Scene 1:**

Wade was a man on a mission. A very important, no time for funny business mission. Or maybe a very important, little time for funny business mission, because funny business had a way of finding Wade; he didn't always start it. Anyways, a  _ man on a mission. _ And that mission was to find Spiderman. 

His luck had, for once, been looking up. 

His last job brought him to New York, the home of everyone's favorite vigilante, the friendly neighborhood spandex babe! And Wade was going to meet him. Spiderman had been his idol since he had first joined the fray and Wade wasn't going to throw away his time in the Big Apple™ now that his job was done and Donnie the Gurd was no more. He was going to spend every spare second looking for the man, AKA the spider, of his dreams. He already had a scouting plan all worked out. 

[Like you will even find him. Your plan consists of a map of Queens with crayon scribbles on it], White interjected.

{Okay, but where's  _ your _ brilliant idea-} 

“Shhhhhh, we will be having none of that! Deadpool’s super mega  _ awesome _ plan to find Spiderman is a go and it  _ will _ be a success,” Wade reassured himself as he took said map from one of his pouches. 

According to his carefully laid plans, he was going to hit up Brooklyn first. He had heard some chatter about a potential bank robbery on Empire and Nostrand, and that was just up Spidey’s alley. 

So maybe White had been right and Deadpool’s super awesome Plan To Find Spiderman™ hadn’t been all that well thought out. Wade had been scouring like a Dopinder with a mop on St. Margaret’s floor, and he had seen neither hide nor hair of Spiderman. 

[I told you this was a shit plan] White repeated for what had to be the 70th time that night. 

{Obviously we're not gonna find him in the span of two seconds! That doesn't mean-} 

[I called it. This is bullshit and I warned you about it.] 

Not only was Wade stuck with voices, he was stuck with a voice that was acting more like a record on repeat, and who had  _ no helpful input whatsoever. _ At least Yellow was still optimistic about this. Wade was determined to take one more lap around the block before he called it quits. How long had it been? 

{Five minutes-} 

[Four hours.] 

Wade frowned and shrugged. He needed to buy a new phone. He couldn't remember how he broke the last one, but it was  _ time _ to keep track of  _ time _ again! 

Just as he was rounding a corner Wade heard a woman scream. And that scream was definitely coming from where Wade had just been, therefore not where he wanted to be going now. A second scream more shrill than the first made his decision for him and Wade pouted. 

[Oh for fuck's  _ sake, _ don't get involved-] 

{Every man to himself-} 

[Really? That's the argument you're going with? For an incredibly  _ feminine _ scream? Christ, that's embarrassing-] 

“Lady, you better be in real trouble,” Wade muttered to himself as he took off towards the commotion. 

He had doubled back two blocks and was starting to think he had imagined the whole thing when he caught a glimpse of blonde hair in an alley, and really? An alley? Seriously? He rounded the corner to find a young woman in a struggle for her purse with a mugger. The shrieks he had heard were shrieks of  _ anger _ . The woman was holding onto the strap of a white coach purse with a death grip, and a man was holding onto the body of the bag just as fiercely. 

[All this over a  _ purse. _ What is  _ wrong _ with people-] 

{Oh my God-  _ just wear a hoodie! _ They're comfier than a shitty purse anyway, it's four in the morning!} 

“Ya know, generally speaking, after sundown, it's best not to take shortcuts down dark alleyways,” Deadpool drawled. “Mooks like this guy tend to skulk around waiting to rob people.” 

Both the woman and the man turned to him with startled looks on their faces. Neither let go of the purse and the tug of war continued. Deadpool just lounged against the sidewall watching the struggle continue, a bored look shining through his mask due to the streetlights. 

“A little help would be  _ appreciated!"  _ the woman groused. “Or do you enjoy dressing up like a Spiderman knock off and watching crimes being committed.” She jerked the purse so hard that the purse strap snapped. “No!” she yelled, actual  _ grief _ in her voice as she stumbled backwards into Wade. 

[A goddamn  _ purse. _ Wow.] 

{I mean… we've stabbed people over Louis Vuitton Red Bottom Heels-} 

_ [Because they're expensive-] _

{Coach is expensive too!} 

[But it's  _ a purse- _ ] 

Wade ignored his voices for the moment, gently moving the woman aside before he pulled out a gun in one swift motion. “This isn't worth it, Champ, just hand the purse back over.” The man looked down at the purse and out towards the back exit of the alley. “Have you ever had a bullet wound before? Because they bleed a lot, and they hurt like a bitch, they take  _ forever _ to heal. Trust me it isn't worth it so just," Wade gestured with the gun towards the lady standing next to him clutching her purse strap, “Give the nice lady her purse back. You don't get shot and I don't have to waste a bullet over a fucking purse. Everyone wins. Happy tears all around.”

Wade punctuated the statement with a smile so wide that his mask stitches were stretching to their limits. He knew it was off putting. He didn't particularly care, though. Mook dude took off in the other direction and Wade  _ snarled _ in annoyance, pulling the trigger  _ once _ and waiting for it to hit the guy's ankle and render his run useless. 

Except that's not what happened.

[What the fuck- oh no.] 

{Who the shit- oh. AHHH, IT'S HIM, YES, YES, YES-} 

Wade stared as a thick ball of white struck his bullet  _ midair  _ and while it didn't stop it's trajectory, it deviated the metal casing enough that it missed its target.

[Aaaaand there goes a wasted bullet. Again.] 

{Are you serious-  _ who cares? _ Spidey is  _ right there! Holy shit. Oh fuck, what do we do, what do we do-}  _

Wade put on his most charming grin, forgetting about the woman at his back and the man running off entirely in the face of his precious idol. Webs took off swinging after two-bit nobody and webbed the purse forward himself before returning, all the while Wade sighed dreamily at the view of  _ that ass. _

[He’s not exactly going to approve-] 

{IT’S HAPPENING, BE COOL,  _ BE COOL-} _

Wade shrugged off the woman’s grip on his shoulder and leaned against the closest wall, popping his hip out and trying to look casual. 

“Hey, Spidey,” he called out, waving at the masked hero as he approached. 

Spiderman looked at him, his jaw lowering as if he planned to say something, and then the woman stomped forward in her red heels and snatched her purse away from his grip. Spidey’s attention immediately switched to her and he questioned, “Umm, are you okay? Ma’am? Was he disturbing you?” 

“Oh my god,” Wade murmured to himself. "Rude." 

{He is. So cute. So perfect. She’s so fucking rude and he still-} 

[So he’s a naive idiot. Cool story. You sort of met him, time to move on-] 

Wade shook his head in disagreement as the woman huffed at Spidey and shoulder-checked him, walking away with aggravated footsteps as she yelled, “I’m  _ fine. _ No thanks to your useless  _ sidekick.” _

{Excuse me, what?} 

[We were out  _ way _ before him-] 

{Maybe not, technically the comics-} 

[I don’t give two fucks about the comics, we’re canonically older than he is-] 

Wade blinked a couple times before he realized what the random woman was implying and he put his hands on his hips, yelling, “At least I’m relevant, bitch! And  _ grateful _ when someone takes time and effort out of their day to-!  _ Mph-” _

Wade scowled at the white goop on his mask and yanked it up just above his mouth so he could still be heard. He glared at the hero who was now only five feet away. 

“Excuse you? It’s a little early to shoot white gunk at me, Babe. Take a guy to dinner first? You haven’t even asked for  _ my name! _ And here I thought heroes would be  _ classier-” _

“I-  _ what?” _ Spidey blurted out. He started waving gloved hands in front of him in denial, his shoulders going tight on his frame as he took a step back. “I didn’t- it’s  _ webbing! _ Not- it’s not  _ gunk! _ I didn’t even- that’s besides the point!” 

_ {‘It’s not gunk.’ _ I swear to death, I want him. Can we have him? Please, please, I’ll be good  _ for a month-}  _

“Would you, really?” Wade asked doubtfully. Yellow always wanted them to blow things up and Wade didn’t think one concession would stop the pyro instincts. It certainly never worked before. 

[He wouldn’t, he’s a  _ liar. _ ] 

Spidey tilted his head to the left and just stared at him and Wade blinked at the lack of a response until he realized he spoke to the  _ boxes _ instead of Webs. Oops. Wade rubbed a hand on the back of his neck sheepishly. 

“What was the point again?” Had he missed the point? Was the point even mentioned? Wade wasn't entirely sure. 

Spidey stepped into his space, crowding him back against the wall in a way that  _ would _ have been intimidating if he wasn’t a good four inches shorter than Wade and less muscley. 

“The  _ point,” _ Webs groused, “Is that I came over here to the sounds of screams only to find you almost  _ shooting someone _ over a  _ purse.”  _

[Yeah. Wasting bullets. Emphasis on the  _ 'over a purse' _ part because you're an idiot and this needs to be established-] 

{Hey! It wasn't  _ about _ the purse! It was about  _ justice-} _

Wade lifted a finger in protest and opened his mouth to speak, only to shut it within a second when Webs added, "And I've  _ heard _ of you. You've got a reputation of killing people for money just because you can heal." He paused and crossed his arms. "Wanna tell me what you're doing in my city?" 

{Oh.  _ Ow. _ That hurt.} 

White snorted. [At least he's honest. More than I was expecting.] 

Wade brushed off the commentary and crept forward into Spidey's space, tucking his gun back into his holster and raising his hands up is surrender. "Now, now, Webs. What happened to the  _ friendly _ part of my favorite Friendly Neighborhood Webhead? And anyway!" Wade added cheerfully, "I aimed for his  _ ankle. _ Haven't un-alived anyone in months." Wade smiled and gave a little bow in Spiderman's direction, only about a foot away from them. He glanced back up at the hero and grinned. "You've inspired me! Like an artist! Or a musical!" 

White sounded like he was  _ wheezing. _ [A musical. I thought you were trying to  _ impress _ him. You're embarrassing us all.] 

{You know what? I can start singing the Gummy Bear Song if you don't  _ fuck off-} _

[You hate that song. We all hate that song-] 

{Not as much as you!} Yellow announced cheerfully. And he was right, as evidenced by the way White went suspiciously silent. 

Spiderman was quiet for a moment. A very long, nerve-wracking moment and Wade had trouble telling how much time passed him by on his best days, so he didn't know if it had been ten seconds or fifteen minutes. The only reason he knew it hadn't been hours was because the sun wasn't out yet. And then Spidey spoke up in a very… curious tone. 

"You… like musicals?" he asked. He sounded almost bemused… or caught off guard. But it didn't sound  _ judgemental _ and Wade would take what he could get. 

He nodded enthusiastically and went on a rant about  _ The Dolls Of New Albion _ and  _ Hamilton _ , ignoring White's angry protests because Spidey wasn't interrupting him or leaving and that was more than he ever really got from anyone, Weasel and Logan included. In fact, he talked about it for a while, just going on about the productions and the actors and what he did and didn't like about the way they portrayed certain characters and Spidey didn't interrupt him  _ once. _ He just climbed about three feet up a wall and planted his feet on the side of the building, using his calves to balance himself into a seated position as he focused on Deadpool until he ran out of things to say about the first musical and pouted over the Hamilton musical being cancelled before he could see it. 

Spiderman cleared his throat. Wade looked up at him, realized that there was light reflecting off his mask lense, and noticed how bright things were all of a sudden.

[You managed to rant at him for several  _ hours. _ What is wrong with you-] 

{Wrong with us? No. What's wrong with  _ him? _ No one ever listens to us. And he's not even falling asleep!} 

Spidey spoke up hesitantly and through a yawn. "Have you seen… the," he paused to yawn a second time mid-sentence, "Hamilton Animatic? 'S free. On YouTube." 

Wade stared, mouth dropped open, and then he beamed, a hand raised over his heart. "I  _ knew _ you would be perfect. White doubted me, but you're Spidey! Great taste, great suit, great ass-"

Spiderman coughed and yawned again, but this time he didn't bother toning down the volume of it. "I think I'm gonna- I need to… umm," he started to climb down from his spot on wobbly legs that Wade realized must have fallen asleep, and he began walking away. He paused as he lifted his arm and he glanced back at Wade. "It was nice meeting you, 'Pool. You're nothing like Tony said you would be." 

He was gone in a second, swinging away under the sunlight and leaving Wade to stare after him, one hand still over his chest. 

[Oh no.] 

{Oh  _ yes _ .} 

It was one thing to want to meet his hero, it was another thing entirely to have developed a crush so soon. 

  
  


**Part 2, Scene 2:**

[You realize this has gotten out of hand. You must see that. There's no way you could possibly be that--  _ no one _ could possibly be that stupid.] 

{He looks pathetic, we're  _ not _ leaving him like that. Get the fuck out-} 

[Can't. Don't know if you noticed I've got a permanent citizenship here-] 

{So do I. Fuck off with that shit. I demand peaceful coexistence and if we  _ want _ someone, you can't just-}

[Don't tell me what I can and can't do, you fucking swine-] 

Wade grimaced at the noise in his head, blinking to look beyond their words and focus on the scene before him. It wasn't exactly a pretty picture. 

"Webs. Jesus, what the fuck did you  _ do?" _

Spidey-- shockingly-- flinched. He  _ flinched _ when Wade announced his arrival and that was… well. That had never happened before. Two months in and Wade had never managed to sneak up on the guy. He knew he had special senses and shit; it was kind of hard to miss someone's special abilities when they could dodge bullets no matter what brand of silencers some criminals used. 

The fact of the matter was that the wall crawler wasn't as trained as Wade,-- his hand- to- hand combat had failed him on multiple occasions and he was more of a defensive fighter, his offense tactics mostly boiling down to the use of his sticky goods-- but he was  _ definitely _ better at keeping himself from bleeding. 

[Perhaps that's because his life depends on it. His survival isn't a commodity, whereas you keep popping back up like a nest of  _ cockroaches- _ ] 

{OR} Yellow interjected., {He's psychic! That's so fucking cool and awesome and--  _ GASP-- _ do you think he can see the future!? Do you think he can read  _ our _ future? Will the singularity happen- will I ever, in my lifetime, become a  _ real boy? _ } 

Wade stopped listening once Yellow started making Pinocchio jokes, listening to the ragged breaths of his new favorite hero, not that he would tell him that. Everyone claimed their favorite hero was Captain America. He couldn't go telling his  _ maybe friend sometimes patrol partner _ that he was Deadpool's number one. It was too early for all that fan service. 

And the  _ point was _ that Spiderman always knew when Deadpool was approaching. When anyone dangerous was approaching. Either he was terribly indisposed and on the verge of dying-- which Wade doubted since he was still standing-- or he trusted Deadpool more than anyone ever should. 

The webhead tried to stand a little straighter, failing to hide a full body wince as he moved from his half-crouched position, his abdomen twitching in a tiny  _ uncomfortable _ spasm as he shifted further to one side, all of his weight held mostly on his left leg. He had one shoulder pressed heavily up against a dirty alley wall with stains on the surface that Wade knew better than to question. 

His mask was very still, almost like Spidey had this frozen expression of not quite pain that he didn't want anyone to see. He cleared his throat, shoulders trembling a little as he forced himself into a fully upright position against the wall, placing his back against it in what was an  _ attempt _ at a nonchalant lean but was obviously painful. His right leg was only slightly raised, one hand awkwardly squeezing the area of his inner thigh, his foot barely touching the ground with the tip of his boot. 

When he spoke, it was through clenched teeth and poorly hidden strain as he replied, "I haven't done a thing. I'm good. It's all good. I'm fine." 

Wade nodded, pretending to agree for only a second. 

[Wow. You'd think he has a death wish-] 

{Does he think we want to hurt him? Oh, he's  _ adorable- _ } 

[This. This right here proves you're a psycho. Someone being afraid of you doesn't make them adorable-] 

{It does if we don't plan to un-alive them.}

There was a brief fragment of quiet before White screamed: [What is  _ wrong with you- _ ] 

Wade cut him off as he approached the friendly neighborhood hero with a grin, watching him tense up further with each step Deadpool took toward him. "So you're fine?" 

Spiderman merely met his gaze through their lenses and muttered, "Great." 

"You're good?" Wade asked, as if the use of a different word changed the question at all. 

[Are we  _ really  _ going to play this game?] 

{ _ Gamegamegame! _ } 

The hero paused, shifted, failed to stifle a wince, and then finally ground his teeth together as he looked up at Deadpool. "Yes, I'm doing lovely. I'd be doing better if you backed up a bit too. Personal space. There's a concept, don't know if you've heard of it, but allow me to teach you about the wonders of personal bubbles-" 

"I'd pop your bubble  _ any time _ ," Wade promised, leaning in further, smile stretched so wide he could feel his own face aching. 

Really, though, when would he ever get another opportunity like this? It wasn't like Webs did anything more than tolerate him the past two months.  _ Sixty days _ and Wade hadn't made an inch of progress. The most he got out of the hero was a tolerant indulgence of his musical and movie ramblings and the occasion lecture on excessive force. He just wanted a friend. And one that  _ didn't  _ want to kill him. 

[Hate to break it to you, but those seem to be out of stock.] 

{HE'S RIGHT THERE.} 

[But he's not exactly your friend, is he? He's an acquaintance  _ at best _ .] 

Yellow went radio silent, which admittedly was never a good sign, but Wade would deal with the fallout either way. He focused on his-- hopefully-- friend and before the little spider could snidely snap back at him, Wade softly asked, "Real shit, Webs. Do you need-- I can patch you up. You don't have to wait it out here. Fuck knows it could get infected and you can't shake that off like I can." 

Spiderman's suit was torn in several patches along his torso, bruises littering his ribs. An entire strip of fabric was gone from his right shoulder and the skin was a deep blue, yellow already lining the edges of the thing. Wade hadn't noticed until then that Spiderman was carefully avoiding contact with the wall on that side; it didn't look like he'd dislocated it, but it would take a small miracle for Wade to believe there wasn't a series of torn muscles tissues in there. Of course, none of that mattered as much as the shredded area of the suit on the inside of the suit's right thigh. Gloved hands covered the area, but the streams of blood were worrisome. 

[This isn't your problem, just fuck off and let him deal with it. He's a grown man, he can handle himself and this is a waste of time.] 

{You know. Spidey would totes be our friend if we, you know, do like Batman and save the damsel. Just saying.} 

[I might as well not exist here for all the fucks you two give about my opinion.] 

{Maybe if you had a  _ NICE THING TO SAY EVERY ONCE IN A WHILE- _ } 

"I don't need you-- need your…" Spiderman was making an effort to talk, but his muscles trembled with the sheer amount of energy it took to hold himself up and Wade took the final step to reach the guy, wrapping one arm around his waist despite the uncomfortable yelp he received for it. He brought the guy's left arm, the good one, around his shoulders to balance Spidey's weight for a second. The poor guy practically fell right against him, head on Wade's shoulder as he finally admitted, "I don't-- I don't feel so good." 

Wade made quick work of ripping the remainder of Spidey's sleeve off his right arm to wrap tightly around his thigh, supporting the hero on his left side as he crouched down a bit to get the job done. He had a second of panic where he well and truly believed the city hero had died against his chest, but when he near-hysterically said, " _ Fuck. _ Thought I could avoid hospitals forever," that exhausted voice piped up again. 

"No hospitals." 

[Clearly he's lost his mind.] 

{Does this mean we can bring him home? Ohmygodohmygod yes yes yes! I HAVE A NEED.} 

Wade ran in the direction of a hospital anyway, ignoring Spiderman's protests. This backfired when the hero used the last of his strength to grab onto Wade's hand and break the bones there, practically growling, " _ No hospitals _ ," before his breathing slowed and he became limp in Wade's arms. 

Wade, against his better judgement-- [What judgement is that, exactly?]-- decided to bring Spiderman to his apartment. It wasn't like he had much of a choice! Besides, he  _ did _ make sure to tie up the wound before moving the poor dude anywhere and it wasn't like Spidey was  _ human. _ He was a mutant, like Wade. Sure, his powers weren't  _ quite _ as strong, but he did have a healing factor. By the looks of it, he hadn't actually been stabbed in the femoral artery. If anything, it was probably just nicked which explained the dramatic blood loss. At the very least, it seemed like the fabric wasn't soaking through anymore. 

Carefully, Wade removed it and got to work with the disinfectant-- that alleyway really was disgusting, the rat problem in New York was becoming unbearable and Wade had half a mind to just go out hunting them every so often to limit the population-- and with the bandages. The fact that the hero had lost so much blood that he didn't even wake up as Deadpool--  _ Deadpool!-- _ treated him was both incredible and concerning. 

Just as his thoughts started running away from him, a quiet groan spread through the apartment and Spiderman's head tilted downward at Wade's hand on his thigh. 

In the blink of an eye, Webs was on the opposite side of the couch, his chest rising up and down as he lay there pathetically. 

Wade snorted. "You lost too much blood for sudden movements, genius. As cute as it was, watching your impression of a startled cat, you might want to chill for a sec, babe." 

Spiderman was  _ wheezing. _ " _ Babe _ !" he gasped out, the word a shocked and outraged utterance. "You-- why." He breathed deeply, chest heaving as he finally managed to string a sentence together. " _ Why am I in my underwear?" _

The boxes spoke at the same time: 

[He cannot be-- fucking  _ hell. _ This is an actual, real life question. How else were you supposed to treat his wound? Ungrateful  _ trash. _ People are all disappointments these days.] 

{Because that's the way God intended you to be.} 

Wade merely stared back, unimpressed, and then made a grand gesture at the injured thigh with his hand. "I present Inner Thigh Wound The First. I assure you, he and I had a lovely time. Alcohol, blood, and tears. Okay, maybe not the tears, but you get the point. It was  _ magical. _ " 

Spiderman's right foot twitched and Wade beamed at him because the poor dude was in no position to kick Wade off any buildings. Not that Wade resented him for the one time he did--  _ not at all, _ Wade actually had to admire anyone with the balls to even try, let alone succeed-- but he didn't exactly enjoy resetting bones more than anyone else did. 

[And you kind of deserved it.] 

{And it was sexy.} 

It was a rarity for Wade to agree with  _ both _ boxes but he had definitely deserved it: one couldn't just get away with cutting off a guy's hand in front of the friendly neighborhood Spiderman and then expect a welcoming hug, after all (Though Wade maintained that the guy didn't  _ die _ , so his move was valid). And yes. "It was indeed very sexy." 

Wade could  _ see _ the deep scowl hiding beneath the Spidey mask as his patient replied, "You groping my cut in my sleep was not, in any way,  _ sexy. _ Even if I'd been  _ conscious-"  _

His voice abruptly came to a halt, left hand flying up to the bottom of his mask, shoulders drawing up tight until another wince rippled through that bruised torso and forced him to sit carefully still. 

"Relax. Jesus Christ." Wade raised both his hands in surrender, palms encased in black leather facing his new what? Role model? Crush? Maybe-friend? Whatever. "Bro code and all that. You know, the good stuff? I wouldn't take your mask, Webs. If you show me, you show me. If you don't, you don't." Wade shrugged indifferently and added, "I'd  _ murder _ anyone that pulled mine off in my sleep and since I can't exactly die, which means you can't really kill me, that wouldn't be fair, now would it?" 

There seemed to be far too much there for Webs to process because he sighed a dreadfully heavy sigh before finally just sinking back into Deadpool's couch cushions and muttering, "Just get me some sweats and a t-shirt. This suit is ruined, I've had a hell of a day, and I can't deal with-" he waved a lazy hand in Wade's direction without actually lifting his head to look at him as he continued with, "This." 

[The nicest hero of the bunch officially can't stand you-] 

{Au contraire! I think he likes us! He's still here, isn't he?} 

White snorted disdainfully. [Yes. Quite. Because he obviously had a choice about that.] 

{He. Likes. Us.} 

Wade was used to believing White, but he wasn't really phased. The fact that Spiderman was even willing to sit there instead of calling an Avenger team member was already a maximum achievement. "It's cool, Webs. Not many people  _ can _ deal with all of this!" 

Wade took the opportunity to dance and gyrate his hips only for his new friend to groan and hide his masked face into the cushions. 

[Cringe. Oh fuck, why.  _ Why. _ ] 

_ {I'm sexy and I know it! Dunnunun dun nun!} _

He did go get the clothes, though. He also awkwardly helped the injured party into clothes that were  _ far  _ too big for him-- honestly, why were his clothes so big on everyone?-- and pretended not to feel pity for all the tiny noises of  _ hurt  _ Webs failed to keep hidden during the process. 

"When you're done hiding from my beauty," Wade began, voice high and feminine and as  _ snooty _ as he could possibly make it in an effort to distract from the guy's embarrassment, "I'll have some food ready for you. For recovery and all that jazz. I actually think you might have some broken bones too, what with the way you couldn't even stand on that leg, so you're in for a  _ rough _ night, Buttercup. But fret not! Chef 'Pool is here to provide sustenance!" 

There was only more groaning, muffled by his favorite cushion. Wade rifled through his kitchen and realized he may have neglected to mention that he didn't usually cook for himself. He hadn't anticipated having a guest and he hadn't gone grocery shopping for the occasion so all he bad were six boxes of cup noodles. It wasn't very… nutritious, but it would have to do. He poured the water, popped those suckers into the microwave for four minutes just to be safe, and finally headed out to his living room with a bottle of hot sauce between his teeth and a couple of forks tucked under his chin. 

"Bon appetit, Webs," Wade said, giving a pleased smile when the exhausted bean on his couch reached out for his first cup. 

"Cup noodles?" he asked. 

"Cup noodles," Wade parroted, making no effort to clarify why  _ this _ was what he chose for a recovery meal. Food was food. 

With pained and strategic movements, Spidey shifted himself into a criss-cross seated position and raised his mask just enough to quietly blow on his food, steam drifting in the air in front of him. 

"Hot sauce?" Wade offered, already digging into a cup of his own as he held out his treasured sauce to his guest. 

After a moment of hesitation, the sauce was accepted with a mumbled, "Thank you," and the barest hint of a smile. It was-- unexpected. 

[If you start writing a sonnet, I'm going to get you killed for some peace and quiet-] 

{It's…  _ soft. _ } Yellow murmured. 

Wade wondered if he'd imagined it. It was so brief that it could have been a hallucination and, despite their myriad of opinions, the boxes weren't the most reliable sources one could have. Nonetheless, Wade nodded and slurped noisily to fill the silence. 

At some point after the third cup of noodles for each of them, Webs couldn't take the quiet anymore because he spit out, "Well?" 

Wade blinked-- multiple times. 

"Pardon?" 

"Oh,  _ come on. _ You didn't take me to a hospital," Spidey said, ticking off one finger. "You brought me here but didn't ask anything of me, not yet anyway," he seemed to look suspiciously around him as he ticked off another finger. "You didn't remove  _ my mask, _ which- kudos, you surprised me," he ticked off the third. "But you can't  _ honestly _ expect me to believe that you did  _ all of that _ and you're not curious. First thing you did was ask what I did to myself-" 

[You always like the dramatic ones,  _ why do you always like the dramatic ones? _ ] 

{Because he's  _ spicy- _ } 

[Useless, the both of you-] 

Wade had crushes relatively quickly. He could admit that much about himself. He could  _ also _ admit that he liked the dramatic ones because he also had a flair for theatrics. Case in point. 

"I already asked, you didn't answer. I'm not gonna repeat myself. You'll tell me. Probably just to convince me about there, 'always being another way,' or something, but you like telling me stories. Even if you don't want to acknowledge it. Half your lectures turn into funny anecdotes." 

Spidey wasn't looking at him. He was wiggling his right foot and wincing at the movement. Yeah, probably broken. Wade would totally make him a temporary cast once the stubborn little masochist fell asleep again. 

With a final grimace, Spiderman ignored the way Deadpool called him out and replied to the original question. He sounded relieved to be done with the quiet. "It's my own fault, really. Had a mission with the Avengers-- I don't get called too often, but when I do, it's  _ bad _ \-- and by the end of it I was all wrung out. Didn't want to skip out on patrol but I figured-- you're a decent fighter. In your own… way. Thought you'd pick up my slack at least, but a petty gang of  _ thieves  _ got to me first. And you know what? I got stabbed and let them go because I don't want to die over what was probably a grand, at best." He put the latest cup down and just laid there against the back of the furniture. "They were high schoolers.  _ High schoolers.  _ Ugh." 

[That's embarrassing. I take it back, the hip roll thing isn't that bad in comparison.] 

{Oof. We should get him a blanket or something.} 

Wade listened intently for a while, and once his buddy relaxed a bit, he replied, "You know what I think?" 

The ridge of one of Spiderman's masked eyebrows rose in question. 

"I think you shouldn't waste your time on those high and mighty assholes anyway. They call you for the worst of the worst and then distract you from what actually matters to you and-- do you even get a thank you? Do you go to all the Avenger parties?" 

[Way to make your salt glaringly obvious-] 

{What if he wasn't invited! We could have told him we were invited and looked cool! You ruin everything!} 

"You sound… jealous," Webs said slowly. "Why don't you work with them then? I feel like you're exactly the kind of person they need for alien invasions-- I'm not. I'm not the best at… eliminating threats. Not like that." 

Wade frowned and then scowled to cover up just how offended he was that his name was probably  _ never  _ even brought into the discussions. "I  _ would if I could! _ Who doesn't wanna work with  _ Captain America, Webs!? _ " Wade pouted as he added, "But they don't want  _ me. _ I'm not just some rabid dog that's chomping at the bit to tear into someone, I fucking- I'm  _ useful. _ I could be useful! I just never get the chance." 

[As far as mating rituals go, this is the worst thing you could do. You're not even trying to impress him anymore. You're actively being a sad excuse of a human-] 

{It's called provoking SYMPATHY, WHITE. Something you wouldn't know about-} 

Spidey was quiet for maybe two seconds, his voice a nervous and hesitant volume as he replied, "If it makes you feel any better, Captain America isn't as easy going as he looks on TV. He's a, uh, character." 

{HA! I knew we liked him for a reason! Of all the things to focus on-} 

[He's strange and I disapprove.] 

Wade snorted, just once, and immediately felt guilty for it, crossing his arms over his chest as he planted his booted feet on his dingy coffee table. "That's… disappointing. Never meet your heroes, I guess." He had the fleeting thought that Peter would have hated that, but it fled to the corners of his mind as fast as it came. "Why can't I just live out my dreams? I just wanted one moment, one brief little hello and maybe a signature. Oh, life, thou art a cold hearted bitch!" 

Spidey snorted and muffled his laughter into the palms of his hands, shoulders shaking a bit. Wade noticed, somewhere in the back of his mind, that the wincing wasn't quite as bad as before, and that the yellowing at the edge of the largest bruise on the shoulder--exposed because of the wide neckline-- was no longer there. 

{A shame. Yellow is absolutely his color. Very bright.  _ Eye-catching! _ } 

The laughter was still going, even as quiet and stifled as it was. Wade wasn't entirely sure what he'd said that was so funny. Still, he clocked his head to the side to take in the limited view before muttering, "Cute." There was a… peculiar sense of deja vu surrounding him but he wasn't sure what it was for. 

[It's probably just the morning bullets. They do tend to get to your head sometimes.] 

Ah, White. Every so often he  _ was _ helpful. 

{Side effects are just- no. Ew. Refuse. Die.} 

Then he realized White made a  _ pun _ , about bullets  _ getting to his head, _ and he couldn't help laughing. It was so rare, it caught him off guard. 

So there they were, the two of them, laughing for completely unrelated reasons when Spiderman finally managed to choke down his remaining giggles enough to ask, "So… why Captain America?" 

[Don't answer that-] 

{Be open! Appealing! Make him care!} 

[Do  _ not- _ ] 

Following Yellow's lead, Wade tentatively created a version of what Peter once said to him. Originally, he had only seen this amazing strength in the Captain. Then Petey pointed out truths about heroism that always stuck with him, more than any fanaticism ever would. 

"He does his best to make the world feel safe," Wade started explaining. "To protect everyone and make them see that they can do whatever the hell they want without worrying about getting skewered!" He couldn't read Spiderman's mask so he hurried to add, "I mean, it's always a risk, but my point is- safety! Big heroic gestures! Hashtag, He's a wholesome meme, Hashtag, Thicc Thighs! You know- like you! Except apparently not?" He lost his steam then, words coming slower as his disappointment made itself known. "Because he doesn't like me. Or talk to me." Wade pouted, blinked, and then visibly brightened. "But you do!" 

Wade deflated as Spidey stared at him wordlessly, until finally Spiderman gave in and lightly punched Wade's shoulder in the most awkward bro-punch in the history of mankind. "I do," he conceded. "You've been following me around for two months, it'd be hard not to get used to you." He paused, bit his lip, and then said, "You're not… look, I think the Captain just dislikes you because of Stark. That's it. Nothing else to it." He hesitates and then points out the reality of the matter. "Other than the whole, you know, killing thing."

[Well isn't this just lovely-] 

{He doesn't… know? He hasn't asked or heard--} 

Wade stretched his arms over the back of the couch in a pose that he meant to look relaxed and totally-not-invested but probably came off as if he was stiff and trying to strangle his own couch with his forearms alone. "I haven't-- done that. It's been-- a couple months." 

[You.  _ Imbecile. _ You just laid your intentions out on a plate and handed him a steak knife! Where is your bloody  _ subtlety? _ ] 

{Oh God. Oh God, what did you do-- no no no, he's going to know! Abort mission, abort, abort!} 

Spidey craned his head sideways to face him, to  _ really _ face him instead of just possibly side-eyeing him behind the safeguard of his mask. Wade felt like he was being held under a lense and analyzed and he shifted uncomfortably in place, waiting for this impromptu focus to be over. He liked being the center of Spiderman's attention, but not like this-- not if he had to be vulnerable for it. He felt far too exposed and he had enough of that feeling whenever he went out in civvies; he didn't need that with his friend too. That was,  _ if _ they were actually friends. Wade wasn't entirely sure how Spidey felt on the matter. 

Webs observed him a moment longer and-- just when Wade felt ready to pick at his own skin-- he spoke. "A couple months isn't really going to impress them." 

[At least he isn't lying.] 

{That… hurt. What the fuck.} 

Wade waited a couple seconds, hoping for the quiet,  _ 'It matters to me, though,' _ that never came. 

Finally, he plucked a cushion from beside him and hugged it against his chest to fill a little bit of that cold, empty sensation that plagued him every once in a while.  _ Loneliness, dear friend, you've returned. I hate to say that I didn't miss you. _ He pouted and muttered, "I didn't even-- they don't have to  _ like _ me, Webs. Or even work with me. I'd take an autograph, really. You'd think fifteen visits would be enough to get Iron Dick out of Cap's ass long enough to get me a signature but  _ nooooo, _ I'm a  _ threat _ and I need to be  _ escorted out _ with  _ violent measures. _ Fucking Robo-Cock."

He took the effort to make air quotes with one free hand, the other arm still hugging the cushion close as he mumbled bitterly about the shitty nature of the Iron Assbutt. It didn't have quite as dramatic of an effect as intended because one handed air quotes were not-- in fact-- real air quotes. 

[Look at him.] 

{OMFG he's paying attention, he always pays us attention, I  _ can't- _ } 

He noticed Webs was  _ still _ staring at him. 

"What?" he asked. "Did my mask tear? Am I full avocado? Are you having a stroke?  _ Do I have a pizza grease stain?" _

He received a bright grin for his questions and an amused, "I haven't met a lot of people willing to insult  _ Angry Billionaire Tony Stark _ ." 

[Because he's a right bastard-] 

{He's got a stick so far up his-} 

_ "Good!" _ Wade burst out passionately. "I am  _ honored _ to be one of the lucky ones! Heart of gold, bones of steel,  _ brass balls!  _ Thank you very much! He can go fuck himself. I've sent him a variety of cactus species to choose from, you know? Pepper keeps them alive too. I see them whenever I get the whim to break in-" 

Spidey muffled another laugh into his hands and Wade's mind blanked completely at the gesture. It wasn't anything special but it gave him a soft, almost protective feeling and it was  _ distracting. _

"Not that I don't think breaking into Stark Tower is-- _ quite _ the adventure," Webs said, "But maybe  _ don't  _ do things that might make Stark more inclined to try and kill you?" He waved a hand in Wade's general direction and instantly failed to hide another flinch.

[People are so--  _ fragile. _ ] 

Where White sounded incredulous, Yellow took the opportunity to sound hysterical as he bit out, {HE WOULD BE FINE IF YOU'D SHOWN UP EARLY LIKE I ASKED YOU-} 

Wade shrugged. What happened happened. He couldn't change it. In fact, "He's failed before. Not very heroic if you ask me, but he seems to think my brand of crazy needs routine extermination. Like mice!" He smiled to lighten the mood, despite the fact that he could see Webs frowning at him, the skepticism written all over his jaw. 

"You know… they're not perfect. They fail too, and a lot of the time those failures leave people behind who have to realize that they can't do what they wanted, they aren't as safe as they believed, the world isn't a happy place." He trailed off, his voice growing tighter as he reached the end of his sentence and then muttered, "Heroes can't save everyone, alright? They just pretend they can so that people can still go out with smiles on their faces and a sense of security. We all just fake it 'till we make it." 

Webs bit his lip and Wade could hear screaming in his head, but under the circumstances-- he really didn't think it was the time to determine how sexy it was. Spiderman sounded so  _ burdened, _ as if he'd been through enough losses that it was no longer just a possibility to lose more people-- fail more times-- but an expectation. His reality. He confirmed it with a hushed confession of the words, "Except we never actually make it."

[Oh yes, terribly sad. You have now seen his insecurities. Is that enough? Can we go now?] 

{I want. To know.  _ Everything. _ } 

Wade didn't address any of it. He wasn't a therapist and he didn't react very well when people put on a professional, 'you  _ can _ be saved,' air around him, so he wasn't going to deprive Spiderman the same unprofessional courtesy. Chances were, Wade would only say the wrong thing and make it worse. 

"Well this is depressing. All we're missing is a window covered in little raindrops that race to the bottom for the aesthetic and we've got a show-!" 

There was a crack of thunder, a flashing light, and then the lights went out. 

_ "Piece. Of. Trash," _ Wade bit out, seething in the darkness as he stomped to the side cabinet to get some candles. "I swear to  _ Christ _ if I burn down another apartment-" 

[This will be the third-] 

{Does it really count if the other apartments were shitty though?} 

  
There was a low gasp of a chuckle before muffled little  _ hmm's  _ of laughter reached Wade and all the animosity drained out of him as a laugh escaped him too. It was, frankly,  _ the cutest damn thing _ that Spiderman muffle his laughter into his palms. He'd seen it more in one day than he had in the previous two months and Wade was  _ almost _ lenient enough to let the teens who made it happen off scot free. Except, he really wasn't that nice and he was at least going to put the fear of the twelve settled mercs of Sister Margaret's into their juvenile hearts. 

For about a minute and a half, Wade let himself feel safe in the darkness, kept alight by the sound of Spiderman exuding happiness and comfort, and then he lit the first few candles, setting one down on the coffee table, another on the side table, a couple in the hallway, and one on his favorite place of all-- the fireplace mantel. 

[I'm never letting you forget that you signed a lease solely because you liked the goddamn fireplace mantel.] 

{It's a pretty one.} 

[It serves no purpose! We have a heating unit!]

"Have you been to Paris?" Webs asked him suddenly and-- the question almost felt like a slap to the face. Oh, of course he didn't mean to say anything bad. Wade knew that, but one second he felt safe in the company of a hero and the next he was drowning again. The past was a terrifying thing. 

His eyes drifted over to the mantel again, to all the French souvenirs, the little metal Eiffel towers, the tiny Louvre replica, recreations of famous paintings in Paris. Wade should've anticipated the questions, there were so many souvenirs after all, but it felt like a punch to the gut and he sat very still as his mind tried to rationalize a way out of it. He might have succeeded, had he been less tired, less full, less… open. He'd certainly never felt the need to tell Weasel or Logan, but Spiderman-- Wade knew that if he expressed a word of discomfort, the guy would let him make up whatever grand story of international travel he wanted. For that reason, Wade settled on telling the truth. 

"My mother, she-- she was born there. France. Paris. The city of l'amour, if you will." 

He rotated his wrist as he spoke, focusing intensely on the little crack of his wrist joint every time he moved it in a circle. He couldn't look up. He couldn't bare to, and so he utterly failed to notice that Spidey was inching closer on the couch to listen to him. 

"She was-- elegant. Good. Beautiful. She could walk into a room and everyone would turn to stare at her. If she glanced away, people fell over themselves for her attention and if she didn't-- somehow they still knew. They knew she wasn't really looking at them. She didn't have the time for them or for anyone but herself and… father." Wade tried not to grimace too blatantly, but slowly, the left corner of his mouth twitched with the beginning of a smile. "And me. 'Cause I'm a special little shit." 

Wade remembered what his parents were like before the cancer. He had been cared for. He had been loved because they had each other. And then they didn't and everything fell apart. He kept smiling though, and murmured--more to himself than to his precious little hero, "She promised me we'd go to Paris. Shame that I never did get to go with her." 

Spidey, evidently not the kind of man who bit his tongue, asked, "Why didn't you? Go with her, I mean." 

[Oh. He should  _ not _ have asked-] 

{Oof. We  _ never _ talk about that. Not even to Wease-} 

Wade blinked and returned to the present, snapping out of his childhood memories like he had been dumped in a bath of ice water. There were probably only three inches separating them and Wade was  _ not prepared _ for that discovery. Trying to stabilize the pace of his heart, Wade began to explain-- in spite of how loudly the boxes protested, "She died. Cancer. Big ol' hungry monster. But anyway-- she was great! And she didn't get to take me there before she died so I went by myself! Very fancy, hash  _ aesthetic, _ but not enough romance, you know? It's probably the butterface! Or the reputation? Whatever! Point is, it smelled like croissants and I was happy." 

Webs opened his mouth, closed it, and then simply declared, "I tried to learn French once." 

Wade… squinted at Spidey. It was an odd subject change, but he wasn't going to argue with it. It wasn't like he  _ enjoyed _ talking about the loss of the best woman in his life. If anything, he was incredibly grateful the inquiries didn't delve any further into his life. 

"Why?" he found himself asking, in an effort to steer the conversation away from painful memories. 

[When will you learn that we  _ do not ask questions! _ We don't ask them! We aren't interested! This isn't relevant to our life-] 

{Fuck off, it's relevant to my  _ interests- _ } 

[Screw your interests-] 

Webs admitted, "It's a bit… stupid, really. I had a childhood friend that spoke French so I tried to learn. Turns out advanced courses in school, college applications, part time jobs, funerals,  _ and _ hero-ing aren't exactly conducive to learning new languages. And linguistics doesn't come quite as easy for me as-- well, literally any other subject." 

And just like that, the boxes slipped away for a minute. They did that sometimes, when Wade learned things about someone he had… a soft spot for. 

He nodded, wisely ignoring the funeral mention which he could tell wasn't the point of the answer, and replied, "Big mood," in spite of the fact that he couldn't relate to any of that. He was great with languages and he'd certainly never learned one for a  _ friend. _ He learned solely to understand his vast array of enemies-- except for French. He'd learned French words before he'd learned any English. 

Spidey yawned, body sagging against the fluffy cushions at the center of the sofa. Even his laughter sounded exhausted, low cut off chuckles between soft inhales of air. His tone was full of mirth and tired gravity at once as he replied, "Sure, 'Pool. Exactly. Big mood." 

After a while, he passed out-- his head drifting lower and lower as the minutes went by until his temple rested on Wade's shoulder. 

[Why. This is the  _ worst- _ ] White sounded so aggravated upon his return that it was almost funny. 

Wade would have snorted if he wasn't too preoccupied feeling Yellow's emotions resonate and echo throughout his chest and along his nerves. 

{He's adorable. Actually adorable. Worthy of all the treasures and adoration in the world.}

Wade didn't actually  _ adore _ Spiderman. No, he couldn't possibly. It had only been two months, after all. No one could adore someone so quickly, wholeheartedly; it just wasn't enough time. That didn't stop him from staying absolutely still for eight hours straight, contemplating his life choices and self-control. 

  
  


**Part 2, Scene 3:**

“I don’t know if you’ve heard, but  _ someone, _ ” Deadpool said as he grabbed Spiderman’s shoulder for emphasis, “Got to help  _ The Avengers _ on a mission. The high and mighty! The finest! The  _ coolest beans- _ well, they're not really bean material, but I feel like I can't really call them potatoes either.” 

Spiderman almost jumped out of his skin when Wade came out of  _ nowhere _ , obviously so focused on scouting a bank for potential robbers that he didn't hear Wade climb the building to join him on his perch. Which was fine. Wade just wasn't used to being able to sneak up on him, especially without trying.

“Jesus, Deadpool!” Spidey yelped, holding a hand over his chest defensively.  _ "Warn a guy _ before you sneak up on them. I could've fallen off the building!" He gestured at the ground far below them irritably. "I could be a pancake, right there, because of you." 

Wade shrugged. "First of all," he started, "I made a ton of noise hauling myself up here, and secondly, warning someone defeats the purpose of sneak mode." He grinned widely behind his mask. "Besides, you're missing the  _ best _ part!  _ THE AVENGERS _ ,  _ SPIDEY! _ I got to do a team up! The dream, Honeymoon, that's the fucking dream!” Wade flailed his arms around in excitement, trying to emphasize the clearly  _ amazing _ experience that he got to have. It isn't  _ every day _ you get to hang with  _ The Avengers™.  _

[Unless you are an Avenger] White decided to add, determined to kill his mood. [Then you get to stick to the high and mighty all the time.]

{CAN YOU JUST ENJOY SOMETHING FOR ONCE, YOU BRICK!}

Wade tuned out the ensuing argument with a final mutter of, “Hush!  _ Shhhhh. _ I did a heroic thing, don't ruin this for me.” 

Spidey leveled Wade with a questioning look as Wade snapped back to the conversation with a strained smile. “Pay no mind to that outburst, Webs! Everything is A-Okay, one hundred percent fine! I am most certainly not talking to disembodied voices that only I can hear. It's, uh, it's just thinking out loud! Like Ed Sheeran.”

Wade nodded decisively to himself, humming the lyrics to the song and trying to avoid thinking about how spectacularly he fucked up when White decided to weigh in for him. 

[Nice going, Genius. Now our chances for a friendship with him have officially dropped into the negatives. How quaint.] 

{He's still here, isn't he?} Yellow bit out angrily. 

Wade paid the boxes no mind, determined to just be cheerful. Fake it 'til you make it. If he smiled and nodded everything would work out. 

White burst out laughing in his head. [As if  _ that _ trick's ever worked before.] 

{I'm singing the goddamn Gummy Bear song on strike three and you're on thin fucking ice.} 

Spiderman was still for a few seconds before coughing into his hand and awkwardly saying, “Okaaay." He kept glancing at his hands and then back at Wade in the silence before finally giving in to the fact that, yes, Wade was 1000% expecting him to carry the conversation forward. "Not that your outburst was weird or anything, because it  _ totally _ wasn't- even after you pointed it out- but why don't we just ignore that completely and talk about your Avengers team up. How did it...” he trailed off as he really looked Wade up and down and presumably realized that several missing strips of the costume probably weren't a good thing. 

Wade beamed, his smile so bright it could power all of fucking Manhattan, mask or not. Not  _ only _ did Webs ignore his horrible misstep, he wanted to hear about his mission. He felt  _ special. _ "It went fine! 'Tis but a flesh wound!" 

He made a big show of flexing his biceps and grinned when Webs snorted at the movement. 

[Don't get your hopes up or anything, it's just a crush.] 

{Thin ice, Bitch!  _ Thin ice.} _

Spidey took a couple steps closer to him, amusement dying down as a little crease of worry appeared between his mask lenses. 

“It must have been a shitshow if it left you like this," he commented, gesturing at the remains of Wade’s charred and fairly sticky suit. At least the blood wasn't visible. Red was the best color to wear for a  _ reason, _ after all.

“Oh, it fucking  _ was!  _ Shitshow of the century. A plus entertainment, not as good as you and that ass, but- _ " _ Wade swallowed down the rest of his words as Spidey lifted a foot and kicked his shoulder, knocking him down on the dusty rooftop with a whine. 

"Mention my ass one more time, Deadpool," Spidey grumbled, "And you'll be telling this story to the  _ air." _

[Cold. I'm not even surprised.] 

{Dear fuck, but we love it when he hurts us-} 

[No. Stop it. Not now.] 

{But  _ come on-} _

[T rating. Deal with it.] 

Wade grinned from his spot on the floor and leaned forward, elbows rested on his knees as he looked up his adorable spider. 

“Not gonna lie, Spideybabe, all this exertion has left me  _ hungry _ . Wanna go to Maria’s for some tacos? On me? Please, come on, you always eat like fifteen-” 

[He's going to say no-] 

{He came with last time!} 

There was a heavy sigh from the masked hero and then an amused concession, “Lead the way, Pool.” 

That amusement only turned into a burst of laughter at Wade’s impromptu taco dance. If was a dance he was quite proud of, in spite of White's objections, because it made Spidey laugh every single time. 

It took a while, but soon enough they were back on their favorite- or at least  _ Wade's  _ favorite- dusty rooftop, munching on tacos. 

Wade watched Spidey lift his mask up just enough to eat a hard shell taco and he grimaced. It would have been sexy under  _ any  _ other circumstance, but- 

[Why does he order trash-] 

{He just hasn't had the full extent of Mexican cuisine. We can convert him, it's okay-} 

Wade scoffed and regretted it when Webs turned to look at him and swallowed his bite of food before asking, "What?" in a slightly suspicious tone. 

Wade fell back onto the roof tiles and groaned sadly. "You're a hard shell boy. It's a disgrace. Blasphemy. Tyranny!" 

Spiderman threw a piece of lettuce at him and it landed on his chin. He made a grossed out,  _ 'Eugh,' _ sound when Wade ate it. "I'm not a tyrant just because I don't want soggy food." 

Wade nodded. "Of course not. You're a tyrant because you like it with cheese-" 

"There is nothing wrong with cheese in tacos," Webs protested adamantly, going so far as to point his half eaten taco at Wade. 

"Sure," Wade conceded. "But that's not a  _ real _ taco. And it's processed American cheese to boot. You might as well go to Taco Bell-" 

Spidey gasped and Wade snapped his head to the side to look at him. 

[Is he choking on a taco?] 

{IF YOU BOUGHT HIM THE THING THAT KILLS HIM, I'LL MAKE YOUR LIFE  _ MISERABLE _ .} 

Wade sighed in relief when he saw that the bottom half of Spidey's face didn't seem to look purple. And then the hero went, "Don't you  _ ever _ insult Taco Bell in this city." 

Wade stared for an uncomfortably long time before snorting and declaring, "I should've known no one's perfect. It was too good to be true!" He let his volume rise, upping the drama as he added, "You were bound to be a  _ heathen." _

Spidey looked like he was going to chuck a taco at his head but instead he devoured one of  _ Wade's tacos. _

"Hey!" Wade shouted indignantly, snatching his bag of soft tacos away with all the little to go mini-containers of sauce. "These are  _ my _ tacos. You ordered the fake ones, you _ live with the crunchy tacos." _

[Well. That's attractive.] White was being a sarcastic shit today. 

Yellow was much more agreeable as he sagely piped up with, {All's fair in food and war.} 

[That's not how it goes-] 

Wade groaned as he practically inhaled a nice, soft taco with chopped celery and a fiery red sauce. It was so  _ fresh… _ and likely to make him cry in the bathroom at some point, but it would be  _ worth the pain.  _

"You don't have to sound like a porno every time you eat a taco, Deadpool." Spidey shifted awkwardly in place as he bit into his own taco. Loudly. Fucking crunchy tacos. "Who's the heathen  _ now?" _

Wade grinned. "Still you." He let his grin stretch wider as he said, "You know what I heard from a birdie, Webs?" 

His precious wall crawler looked at him with a small smile. "I thought you were done telling me about your great adventure with The Avengers and the oh-so-great bro Hawkeye when we were in line for the food." 

[Oh no, you're not going to tell him. Oh fuck. Of course you're going to tell him.  _ Why do you do these things- _ ] 

{If he blushes, I fucking win. I'm calling it. Right here, right now, it's happening.} 

Wade leaned all up into Webs' space, one arm swinging out to wrap around his shoulders as he exclaimed, "I forgot to tell you the best part! The part that meant the most to me. Made me feel all warm and gooey inside. Like a cupcake. Wait, no, those aren't gooey. Like  _ pie. The American classic." _

The skepticism behind Spiderman's mask was obvious, but so was the nervous little twitch of his fingers where his hand lay on the roof ledge. "What… what did Hawkeye tell you?" 

Wade beamed and scooted a little to the side, hugging around Spidey's shoulders from behind and practically draping himself over his back, careful to still keep them balanced enough so that his favorite spider-themed hero wouldn't fall in spite of the fact that he just wanted to tackle him into a bear hug. 

"That you  _ love _ being friends with me. That you think I'm funny. And nice. And a good time. They said that you  _ defended me. _ That-  _ gasp- _ you were  _ proud of me." _

He received no answer, but he wasn't kicked or thrown off, so he dragged Webs completely up onto the roof with him and turned him around in a swift movement, hugging him close, tacos forgotten beside them. 

[He's not punching you. Why is he not-] 

{He's… hugging back…} Yellow's voice was filled with  _ awe. _

They sat there for a while, Spidey tentatively wrapping his arms around Wade's waist, before he finally murmured. "Well, you're… umm. You're not a bad guy. At all." 

He coughed before pulling back a bit, picking up his bag of crunchy tacos as Wade failed to keep himself from staring at him. "I should- I should get going. See ya around, 'Pool." 

Spidey gave him a nervous little grin, and Wade melted as his hero swung away, failing to shout out a proper goodbye because he forgot how  _ not _ to hold his breath in disbelief. 

{And he was blushing. I  _ fucking win.} _

[Fucking  _ christ. _ ] 

  
  


**Part 2, Scene 4:**

Wade privately felt incredibly pleased about Spiderman feeling comfortable on his couch. It was somewhere around the third round of Mario Kart that he realized Spidey had one leg dangling off the arm of the couch, his right foot tucked beneath his body, one forearm on the back cushions and periodically laughed gleefully whenever Wade let him win. Because Wade was definitely not  _ actually _ losing, no, not at all. 

[You're full of shit.] 

{Are we really going to pretend we're not losing because we keep looking at Spidey?  _ Look at him, he belongs here-} _

Wade squashed the thought as soon as it came to mind. They were friends.  _ Friends.  _ And they were just playing video games, the way they had countless times before and just because Wade lo-  _ liked- _ Webs, didn't mean the hero liked him back. Besides, the poor guy didn't need someone like Wade coming in and making his life difficult. 

[Well, aren't you just pitiful? We're going with this sob story  _ again? _ ] 

{Oh my god! First Petey-pie and now you won't even let me have Spideycakes-} 

Wade's kart swirled to the side on screen as he hissed, "You didn't even  _ know _ him, I wasn't going back to ruin his life," under his breath. 

There was a light tap on his shoulder and Wade blinked back to the moment, absently realizing that both their karts had flown right off the edge of a mountain cliff and Webs had scooted closer to him, both knees on the couch cushions now as the space between his mask lenses wrinkled with his concern. 

"Wade? You still there?" Spidey slowly waved one hand in front of Wade's face and Wade abruptly beamed his way, all false cheer and waves of happiness. 

[You don't want to ruin his life, but somehow you've weaseled your way into his life enough for him to know when you're pissed. Not really sound logic there, but I'm not surprised.] 

{Shut up! He's  _ concerned _ about us, he's checking on you! He wants the dick, so  _ make a move already, I am begging you. _ Do it for me. Do it for poor baby Yellow.} 

"Sorry, Webs! The voices had a monopoly on me for a second. Did you say something?" 

Webs tilted his head at him and then grinned and Wade was confused and stunned and obsessed for all of a second before Spidey said, "I'm a beast in monopoly. Never lost a game. Do they want to try me?" 

[BULLSHIT.] 

Yellow's voice was tinged with awe, his letters coming in flawless calligraphy-like cursive as he said, {He must be a  _ God _ among men.} 

Wade raised a skeptical masked brow ridge and squinted at the hero. "You lie. Liar liar  _ pants on fire-" _

One frankly  _ ridiculously long _ round of Monopoly™ later, Wade was defeated and unwilling to play a second round to disprove the working theory of Webs being an undefeated game champion. He just wasn't strong enough to handle another go around of a game that was so  _ damn boring. _

[You brought this on yourself.] 

{Why did you  _ not _ offer to seduce him to get out of prison again? The opportunity was there-}

[You're disgusting.] 

{Excuse you, bitch, the word you're looking for is  _ enthusiastic. _ } 

[No, I spelled it right the first time.] 

Wade slouched back into the couch cushions as the boxes argued, his legs dangling off the arm rest as he lay back comfortably. He almost jumped when Spidey plopped down beside his head after he was done putting the board game away (Wade made a mental note to throw the thing away after Spidey left because it was officially the  _ worst game ever) _ , but then decided to throw caution to the wind and settled his head over Spidey's right thigh. He was so comfy. How was Wade supposed to resist? He was only human. 

[And by human, you mean weak.] 

{BY HUMAN, WE MEAN HUMAN. SHUT THE FUCK UP, SAINT WHITE.} 

[I never claimed to be-] 

Yellow started chanting  _ Ring Around The Rosie _ and that never boded well for Wade's sanity so he snuggled up to Webs' tense thigh and smiled privately when the hero relaxed under his cheekbone. 

"You tired, 'Pool? I can go if you want to get comfortable-" 

Wade grunted his disapproval and mumbled, "'M Comfy already. You're soft. Pillow material. 10/10. Would recommend to a friend. Except I don't have that many friends and I don't trust 99% of them so you're stuck with me." 

Spidey looked incredibly skeptical, mask wrinkling between his eyebrows as he replied, "So… I'm the one percent that you trust?" 

[You. Utter. Idiot.] 

{OH NO, HE KNOWS.} 

Wade blinked up with his mask lenses and lifted a hand tiredly to pat the precious little spider's head. "You're a good bean, Webs. Would trust you with my life." 

Webs scoffed down at him, shook his hand off, and dubiously pointed out, "You can't die." 

[HA.] 

{OH,  _ OW. _ } 

In an attempt to play down the emotions circling in his ribcage, Wade gave a big goofy grin and responded with, "Exactly!" He then used both hands to lazily point finger guns at the wall crawler. He used to use his actual guns but the one time he did it, Webs freaked out so badly he didn't come over for six  _ months _ and Wade missed him a little too desperately during that time to ever cross that line again, even for a joke. 

[This is getting pathetic.] 

{JUST KISS ALREADY-} 

Spidey snorted and flicked Wade's forehead as he said, "So you trust me solely because I can't fuck up? I'm offended. I thought we had something special, 'Pool." 

Wade gasped dramatically and tilted his head back to look up at his Spiderling with the utmost disbelief painting his features even through the mask. "You  _ flicked _ me! How dare! Nope, no, you have violated the sanctity of the bro-code; we no longer have anything special. No, sir. Special? Never heard of her." 

[How he manages to stand your presence is beyond me. I can't  _ believe- _ ] 

{You. Could have said. That it was the specialist! You keep  _ wasting opportunities- _ } 

The boxes piped down at the sight of Spidey's shaking frame as he erupted in stifled laughter, one hand covering his mouth as he tried to stop. He was the goddamn light of Wade's life. He hadn't felt so happy and at peace with anyone since… since he'd been very young and naive. 

He had loved Vanessa and they traded jokes back and forth and her crazy meshed well with his crazy but they didn't have a lot of soft relaxed moment. Their relationship had been wild from start to finish and while it had changed him, he could admit that they had never been comfortable with the silence. They tried so hard to fill in the empty spaces and in the end the empty won out. 

With Cable, he had tried and failed to pretend he was someone he wasn't and it turned out it hadn't been worth the effort because they just didn't fit. Cable was travelling to different times to escape the fact that his heart was forever stuck in his past and Wade couldn't live up to that ideal. 

Wade couldn't even describe what went wrong with Shiklah without feeling sad. He didn't think she ever really loved him. She loved  _ parts _ of him. She wanted him to be a monster every minute of the day for her and sometimes Wade just wanted to sit in the quiet and be held. He was extremely aware that she wasn't that kind of person, so he'd never even built up the courage to  _ ask. _ It turned out he didn't need to because she knew, she anticipated it. She saw his weaknesses, deemed him inadequate, and went back to an old flame who lived for the bloodshed she craved. 

Spidey's sweet laughter quieted down and this time he just laid one hand over Wade's forehead. "See, you say that, but you're about five minutes away from passing out in my lap, so forgive me if I don't take this bro-code as seriously as I could." 

[Huh. He's… weirdly okay with this.] 

{HE WANTS THE D. KISS. BIG SMOOCH. JUST SWOOP AND SMOOCH-} 

As tempted as Wade was to take Yellow's advice, the moment felt too… fragile. Soft. Wade shifted a little to snuggle up to Webs' hip and murmured, "Mmhmm. 'S terrible. You said we were bad-besties-for-life, too. All that commitment shattered because of your hubris. For shame, Spidey, for  _ shame." _

Spidey poked him in the side and Wade whined tiredly, curling up closer to the back of the couch and practically smothering himself into his friend's hip. "All I did was flick you, you  _ manchild."  _

Wade laughed and peeked up at the guy. "I know. Harassment. I can totes file a complaint with HR." 

"You're an idiot," Webs replied, smile stretched wide as he looked down at the merc. "You're lucky you're cute." 

[What.] 

{WHAT! SEE, I FUCKING TOLD YOU-} 

Wade froze, Spidey froze, there was a long moment of silence and then Wade popped up and crowded Spidey in, one hand still resting lightly on the hero's thigh now that Wade was sitting upright. "Oh? Cute, you say?" 

Spidey's shoulders tensed up and Wade's grin was stretching  _ far _ too much. He was feeling  _ top smug _ suddenly, heart lurching in his chest cavity in a way Wade was determined to keep hidden behind his calm facade. 

{Oh my God,  _ OH MY GOD- _ } 

[You're an idiot. He's an idiot. Idiots, fucking  _ hell _ . There's no sign of intelligent life  _ anywhere. _ ] 

"You wouldn't happen to  _ liiiiiiike-like _ me, would ya, Webs?" 

Spidey was reduced to near-incoherent mumbling. "I don't- I just. I don't  _ not _ like you? You're good. A good friend, best friend, cute in a friend-like way? Very friendly, super friend," he hastily jumped up and vaulted himself over the back of the couch, taking fast paced steps toward the window as Wade beamed like a lunatic. "So, uh, I'm just gonna- see you later?" Spidey opened the window and hopped onto the ledge, turning mid-crouch to look back at Wade. "Patrol? Tomorrow? You- I'll see you around, okay, bye, Wade, I'm gonna go now." 

The flustered hero threw himself back and Wade ran over to the window to watch his descent and that classic moment of the webbed wonder catching himself at the last second with a wide swing. He bent over and rested his elbows on the ledge, his palms propping up his chin as he watched Spidey swing between buildings and disappear into the distance. He exhaled slowly and quietly in an almost love-struck sigh. 

White snorted. [Almost? Hilarious.] 

Yellow was  _ seething _ . {That was the  _ perfect opportunity to kiss him, you fucking BASTARD. _ } 

Wade shrugged and draped himself over his couch again, pulling his Spiderman plushie out of its hiding place beneath the furniture. He hugged it close to his chest and tried to tame his smile. He failed. Webs totally liked him, Wade could tell and there was a soft fluttering sensation in his stomach that he hadn't felt in a  _ long _ time. 

Spidey was the purest person Wade had ever- well. No, not exactly. But childhood crushes didn't exactly count. All kids started pure. Spidey was the purest  _ adult _ crush Wade had ever had and Wade was a fucking goner. Hook, line, and- that was probably the wrong phrase; Wade didn't exactly feel like he was  _ sinking. _ No, Webs made him feel like flying was something he could do, like the impossible  _ was _ possible. Webs made daydreams a reality and gave him a chance when no one else would and Wade knew how lucky he was. He knew that was more than he ever could have expected or deserved. 

He would do anything for Spiderman. 

Eight months into the friendship and Wade already knew he would die for the webhead, to keep him safe and protected. He just didn't think Spidey realized he had Wade wrapped around his little finger. 

  
  


**Part 2, Scene 5:**

Wade smiled to himself as Spidey knocked down a series of men with sheer instinct. Where Wade moved with a combination of careful movements and reckless interventions, Spiderman was all reaction. He didn’t think; he just acted and somehow always made the right choice and it was mesmerizing to watch, so much so that Wade almost missed it when the slight metal click sounded behind him. 

There was a bang, a desperate shout of,  _ “WADE!”  _ and a brief moment where Wade realized his precious spider was running toward him instead of getting out of the way. If he moved, Spiderman would get shot and avoiding a little death wasn’t worth jeopardizing the safety of an actual hero. 

Hell, the boxes were screaming at him to get out of the way, ink fogging up his vision in messy handwriting that blurred his sight of red and blue. Wade might have moved if it had been Iron Dick or Black Widow, but neither of them would have come toward him. Neither of them would have sounded terrified and Wade stood incredibly still, a familiar sigh escaping him as he realized this was probably going to be a headshot. 

He really didn’t want Spidey to see that, but there wasn’t enough time to stop it and the last clear thought Wade had was, ‘ _ At least if he sees the gore, our face might look okay in comparison, right?’ _

There was a certain weightlessness that Wade had begun to recognize from his many trips to the other side. It never lasted though, and soon enough the weight of the world came crashing back down on his chest and suffocating him. It was funny in a way. He had been shot before the healing factor and it never felt like this, like the energy of his existence was being hollowed out from his bones. He wondered if it was the actual healing factor that made him feel like he was fading away or if every time he died, he came a little closer to the final death. 

[He’s crying.] 

What? 

{OMFG SOMEONE CARES ABOUT US} 

Wade tried to blink, to move, to say something, but he was barely starting to hear his surroundings and he winced at the sensation of muscle tissues realigning together over his cheekbone. It never felt any better than the first time, he’d just learned to recognize the feeling enough to not be panicked by it. He was startled to realize he could actually hear muffled sobbing. Someone was actually, genuinely crying over his corpse. But that wasn’t possible. Anyone who knew him long enough to  _ maybe _ care would also know that he’d pop right back up in around five minutes. Anyone who knew him, knew he had a healing factor. There was no way anyone would be unaware of it. The only softie he knew was Webs, but- oh. 

[Yeah,  _ oh _ .] 

{He cares}, Yellow breathed out. {We  _ matter to him, _ we actually truly matter to him! Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit  _ we’re going to die- _ } 

[We already died, idiot. It would actually be nice if we  _ didn’t _ die for once? Kind of like that whole redemption thing characters get in movies. Where the fuck is my character redemption arc, huh? I have to stew in this shit-] 

{Gasp! You want to  _ abandon us? _ } 

Wade managed to open one eye, not completely, just enough to get a bleary look at his webbed wonder. It was so brief, he soon had to close his eyes to keep the light out because it was stinging and he was already in enough odd pain. He wouldn’t be able to keep silent by biting his tongue if he kept adding onto it and he didn’t need to make this any more morbid than it already was. 

Eyes closed tight, he tried to focus on listening to his patrol partner and his chest  _ ached _ at the sound of Spidey falling apart. Spiderman wasn’t supposed to care about him. Wade craved him and he wanted him, but he never really stopped to think about what his feelings- friendly or romantic- might mean for the masked hero. Webs had to watch him die and Wade got a sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach as he realized one crucial fact: Webs had never seen him die before. Wade had lost limbs, he’d been shot, he’d been stabbed, he’d even suffered third degree burns when they had to save people from a burning building. But he’d never actually died in front of his friend and with how  _ broken _ the guy sounded… Wade wasn’t sure he ever explained that he was immortal. 

[Fix it.] White sounded extremely uncomfortable and Wade knew he wasn’t okay with people crying, but he didn’t exactly know what to do when his brain wasn’t quite ready to send impulses to his limbs. How do you comfort someone when you can’t move or speak? 

Yellow, on the other hand, sounded  _ gleeful. _ {Do something romantic! Wait for the perfect moment- ooh! Oh, I know! I KNOW! YOU CAN SING TO HIM!} 

Wade almost refused. Singing wasn’t something he’d done for very many people. He’d sung with his mother, he’d done so for… for his childhood best friend, and that was it. No one else. 

When he finally managed to open his eyes though, his heart clenched and he found himself agreeing to Yellow’s suggestion without a second thought. Spiderman wasn’t just crying over him. They were on a roof, far away from any criminals. His beautiful little hero had abandoned the scene to bring Wade to a rooftop where he gently propped Wade up in a sitting position against some kind of heating unit and then started heaving broken little sobs into the mercenary’s chest. When Wade managed to tilt his head closer, the first real movement his body allowed him, he could hear soft,  _ wrecked _ apologies murmured into his suit. 

“I’m sorry, Wade. I’m so  _ so sorry. _ I can’t save anyone and everyone I love always dies and I’m so fucking sorry,  _ please, please come back. You heal… you- you can come back to me. Wade…”  _ he trailed off, voice dying into a whimper and reviving with a final gasped, _ “Please.”  _

[FIX. IT. NOW.] 

{Did he say- did he just say  _ WHAT I THINK HE SAID-} _

Wade ignored it. He would have all the time in the world to freak out about Webs saying he loved him, but right now he just wanted to be able to hold him and the fact that he could barely move his fingers made him grit his teeth in frustration. And that’s when it dawned on him that he had regained control of his mouth. Fucking  _ hallelujah. _

[Fuck don’t do that-] 

{DO IT! DO THE THING! DO IT, DO IT, DO IT!} 

Wade shut his eyes once more and finally let his lips part, distinctly aware of the missing layer of fabric and shaky as he tried to focus on the melody, tried to replicate what his mother used to sing to him on her hospital bed when the world was too harsh and Wade needed a reason to stop crying over how unfair it all was. 

_ Des yeux qui font baisser les miens _

_ Un rire qui se perd sur sa bouche _

_ Voilà le portrait sans retouches _

_ De l'homme auquel j'appartiens _

_ Quand il me prend dans ses bras _

_ Il me parle tout bas _

_ Je vois la vie en rose _

Wade could feel Spidey tensing against him, but the crying stopped, a tiny distance opened up between their bodies as the hero pulled away, and Wade kept his eyes shut throughout the lyrics because he couldn’t handle the melody and the insecurity of having his long-time crush look at him when he couldn’t exactly look back. They weren’t on even footing and Wade sang out every word at a quiet, but heartbreaking decibel. He had practiced for years, forever trying to emulate his mother’s effortless performances and he knew that while he wasn’t beautiful, his voice was. He also knew that, at the very least, he could no longer hear any crying. 

[Oh thank fuck. Good. Now you have to deal with the fallout but there are no longer any tears, so I don’t care what happens from this point forward.] 

{He said he  _ loves _ us. He loses everyone he  _ loves- _ } 

[He thought you were dead, people say things they don’t mean when they’re stressed.] 

{LIES, THIS IS LOVE, YOU FUCK-} 

The silence outside of his head was setting his nerves on edge and finally, Wade breathed in shakily and opened his eyes, prepared for Spiderman to look at him with pity (the guy was too good to look at him in disgust). Except, he didn’t get a look of pity. The webhead still had his mask on, bit it was halfway up his face, over the bridge of his nose, and his mouth dropped open in what appeared to be shock, tear tracks drying on his cheeks that Wade barely resisted the urge to wipe away. 

"Wade…?" 

For a moment, Wade thought about hugging his best friend and not-so-secret crush close to his chest and telling him that everything was going to be okay, but that felt too serious and White’s voice was playing over and over in his head like a scratched record:  _ people say things they don’t mean when they’re stressed. _

[Finally! You’re actually listening to me, what a monumental event-] 

{I will eat you. Fuck off. This is my big rom-com moment and I swear to fucking hell if you ruin it, I will  _ murder you. I will find a way- _ } 

Wade grinned as Spiderman, wincing a little as the motion pulled at a still-healing-rift in his cheek. Webs had used his name multiple times in one day and that was a perfectly safe thing to focus on. “Heya Sweetheart, I knew you cared about me! Wade, you called me  _ Wade.  _ You never call me-” 

A laugh broke his concentration and suddenly there were spandex gloved hands on either side of his neck, thumbs tracing over his jaw as he stared back at his wall crawler in shock. “No,” Spidey murmured,  _ “Wade. _ Wilson. Your name- holy shit.” 

Wade blinked and then the implications of Spidey knowing his last name made him go limp with resignation. He could no longer meet those wide white mask lenses. “So you finally broke, huh? Iron Dildo got to you with my shitshow story?” Wade blinked and stared at his own lap, trying to will the sudden knot in his throat to dissipate, for the wetness developing in his eyes to fade. 

[Told ya it was too good to be true-] 

{You’re full of shit! Both of you! If he thought we were bad he wouldn’t be touching us!} 

Wade sucked in a painful breath as he felt those hands still exploring his skin like they had every right to, as if his friend was already used to the scars. 

“What? No! Wade. Wade, I would  _ never-” _ he broke off with a sigh, shaking his head. “Did you, uh, by any chance… go to Roslyn elementary school?” Webs sounded hesitant, nervous, but Wade only latched onto the name of his school. 

[How the  _ fuck- _ is that in our file? I thought the Avenger fuckers didn’t get anything past the military! There are laws-!] 

{HA! You think Tuna Can would respect  _ laws- _ and who cares! Spidey is obsessed! He’s looking up our childhood-} 

Wade squinted at the writing in the corners of his sightline because the boxes were  _ not _ around for his childhood. If anything, they’d only heard the stories. Hell, the military had supposedly destroyed his records long before Weapon X ever got to him. There was no way the Avengers had that information, not even  _ Weasel _ had managed to find out anything concrete about his past. If Spidey knew where he went to school… Wade grinned. 

Nudging the guy’s shoulder with his own, Wade smugly asked, “Are you stalking me Webs? Digging into my past? Can’t get enough of this sweet avocado-lovin’?” 

"Stalking- no! I'm not  _ stalking  _ you, geez. I  _ know _ you," came the high-pitched protest, pale skin flaming up in hues of pinks and red that looked far too pretty for Wade’s well-being. 

[Okay, but could you focus for two seconds and forget about the pink shit? He said he knows you! Hi, hello, my name is Self-fucking-preservation-] 

Yellow, annoyingly, decided that now was the perfect time to make the classic munching noises to indicate he was enjoying the show with metaphorical popcorn. 

“Lies!” Wade replied, “I’m a grown boy, Spidey. You can’t lie to me!” 

He wanted to rant and fume and dive into the comfort of immediate mistrust, but Webs’ hands under his jaw were warm and the touch was soft and Wade couldn’t muster the will to pull back. If anything, he could feel himself melting into the touch, trusting Spiderman instinctively even as he feigned a defensive speech. 

“You totes would  _ never _ recognize me. Humor? On point! Looks? Ehhhhh, not great but definitely not the  _ same. _ No way you know me from elementary school! No one would recognize me from my kid days based on how I  _ act.”  _ Wade snorted and then he tilted his head a bit and added, “Except for Petey-pie, but that was different-” 

[What the fuck. Is that supposed to be relevant? Who owns-] 

{What? What is it? I don’t get it, tell me what’s wrong!} 

[You wouldn’t find anything wrong with this at all.] 

There, on Spiderman’s chest was a silver unicorn pendant, hanging on a thin silver chain. 

{What? Why is that important? Why are you feeling things, what is happening, is this love, it feels like love, HOW DARE YOU FALL IN LOVE WITHOUT TELLING ME WHY!?}

[Shit. You know him, don't you? I  _ knew _ it was a bad idea to stick around him.]

Wade stopped talking, Webs got quiet, and the world made a terrifying amount of sense. Wade’s mother had worn that necklace and she’d died and Wade had worn it the first time his father hit him and it was never lucky for anyone in his family, but his mother used to tell him it was special, that it would protect him. When his father told him they would be moving, Wade left the charm with the one person he wanted to protect more than anyone, someone he knew he’d be leaving behind. 

Spidey held out the necklace and Wade lifted one trembling hand to the tiny pendant. It looked so much smaller than it used to. It looked fragile, delicate, and he stared at it in wonder. It was barely the size of maybe a third of his finger and he couldn’t believe that he used to think it was relatively big for a pendant. He was so focused on it that he almost didn’t notice the soft smile aimed his way. He glanced up at Webs and felt his eyes spilling over as Spidey hooked his fingers under his mask and tugged at the fabric, lifting it over his eyes and the crown of his head, pulling it off entirely and looking at Wade with a look so tender that Wade was lost in him already.

_ “Peter,” _ he whispered, his voice hushed and reverent. Disbelief lingered heavy in every word and when their eyes met Wade felt himself falling even though there was nowhere for him to fall. This was it, this was the only place he could be. 

The boxes went radio silent as Peter offered Wade a shaky little smile and laugh, closing his hand over Wade’s around the fragile pendant. 

[He's Peter? Are you  _ serious? _ Out of all the fucking people in the world that could be  _ normal, this is Peter!? _ ]

{OH MY GOD! HI, BABY BOY! HE'S TOLD US SO MUCH ABOUT YOU, YOU WERE THE CUTEST, WE'VE HEARD STORIES, I  _ LOVE YOU ALREADY- _ } 

"I... I always told Aunt May that this kept me safe,” Peter murmured, hand warm over Wade’s, soft brown eyes shining in the moonlight. 

He laughed quietly as Wade opened his mouth and shut it, at a complete loss for words. It must have been quite the sight, the famous merc-with-a-mouth silently grasping for something to say but too stunned and too overwhelmed to think of a damn thing. His boxes were screaming back and forth but they were nothing more than background noise right then. 

Peter had been everything once, and then Spiderman became everything and now they were one and the same and Wade didn’t know how he was supposed to handle that. 

His childhood friend held his hand tighter, his free hand pulling back to grab Wade’s free hand and place it over Peter’s chest, right over his heart. 

“I've never been shot,” he confessed, a shocking revelation given how  _ often _ he was shot at. Wade almost interrupted him, but Peter leaned closer as he added, “I never landed in the hospital- even in high school when I could have. I never missed a meal, even when I was beyond broke, someone always invited me somewhere or I got offered some small time job, just enough to get food. I never broke any bones, buildings missing me by less than an inch.” He kept firing off the things that had never happened to him and Wade tried to get a word in,  _ anything, _ but then Peter looked down, broke eye contact and whispered, “Everyone I love dies.” 

[Oh. Tough, buddy-] 

{Everyone he loves dies and we can’t die and  _ he said he loves us and do you realize what this means- _ !?!?} 

Wade let go of the pendant entirely and took Peter’s hand in his with no obstructions, squeezing in an attempt to be comforting. The boxes didn’t understand, couldn’t. Peter wasn’t just some strong hero, Peter was… he was pure. Ethereal even, he always had been. Even as a child, he was captivating like no one else could be, as if he could see the potential in the world around him-- the potential in  _ Wade-- _ even when no one else bothered to give the gray areas a second glance. He was Wade’s safe haven and he had been suffering and Wade hadn’t been there for him to lean on. Wade was supposed to keep him  _ safe. _

“Petey, I- I’m so sorry I wasn’t there-” 

But Peter shook his head, that shaky little smile still aimed at him. “This necklace kept me alive when in reality I  _ should _ be dead. I’ve had a thousand close calls and not one of them ever stuck and you-” Peter inhaled quietly, eyes closed. When he opened them, he looked so much calmer, like he’d found a purpose, a reason to hold on and Wade had never been more scared of anything in his life. “I never stopped wearing it,” Peter told him, words quiet and fiercely proud, “Even when it got too tight and I had to buy an extended chain." 

Wade remembered taking his beloved hello kitty piggy bank as a child and smashing it to pieces to afford the real silver chain that hung only part of the way around Peter’s neck now. It was strange to think it ever fit him properly, that he’d ever been that small. 

[You’re scaring him. You want him but you’re not saying anything and he’s going to leave-] 

{Petey-pie wouldn’t leave. He’s the best, the cutest, the sweetest, the one-} 

[STOP. RIGHT. NOW. None of this ‘the one’ shit, it’s too early-] 

{He’s known him his entire life! We’ve known Spideykins for a  _ year _ ! How long are we supposed to wait,  _ a fucking decade!? Get your head out of our ass! _ } 

Wade wanted to speak, but the knot in his throat was as stubborn as ever and he didn’t want to be the one sobbing. He was supposed to be  _ Peter’s _ shoulder to cry on. “Webs,” he choked out finally, voice strained as he tried to put his feelings into words and failed. “I- I don’t-” 

Before the boxes could mock his sad attempt at communication, Peter cupped his face into his hands again and started singing so… so quietly. He let out a rendition of Wade’s mother’s song that was so effortlessly beautiful and spellbinding, that Wade felt like a mere kid again, laying under the hospital blankets in a warm embrace thinking of what he was going to lose and hoping he could hold on for as long as possible. The only difference was that Peter sang the song in English. As he did, Wade fell in love with the lyrics all over again. 

_ Hold me close and hold me fast _

_ The magic spell you cast, this is la vie en rose _

_ When you kiss me, heaven sighs _

_ And though I close my eyes, I see... la vie en rose _

_ When you press me to your heart, I'm in a world apart _

_ A world where roses bloom _

_ And when you speak, angels sing from above _

_ Everyday words seem to turn into love songs... _

_ Give your heart and soul to me… and life will always be _

_ La vie en rose _

Peter wrapped Wade up in his arms, his big  _ strong _ arms that Wade could feel small in, as he sang the last verse into his ear and Wade hugged him back almost desperately. His fists tangled into the fabric of Peter’s suit around his waist and he found himself breathing him in, his cheek pressed against Peter’s head because he missed him so much and he didn’t realize how badly he needed him until the idea that he was allowed to have him in his life presented itself. 

[You love him. Oh my fuck, you actually love him.] 

Yellow was a lovesick mess and the actual personification of Wade’s inner emotions as he declared, {He’s everything. He was everything before and he’s still everything and we would kill for him.} 

Wade couldn’t even stop himself from melting into the embrace, resigned and grateful and so disappointed in himself when he admitted, “I was never supposed to taint you, Petey. You… You’re everything and I’m not worth your time and I’m sorry I’m fucking selfish and I can’t let you go now.” 

He really wasn't supposed to taint Peter. He was supposed to never look for him and stay away because he grew up into a murderer and Peter was better than that, was  _ still _ better than that. 

The night was quiet enough that Wade could hear the slight traffic below, the distant sound of airplanes in the sky. Peter held him in his arms so tightly that it seemed like Wade letting go would never be an issue and when his pretty little webhead spoke, it was the soft admission of, "I missed you, Wade. I never forgot you. You… you were everything." That made Wade let go of all his doubts and worries. He melted into him, hugging him so close and so tightly that Peter’s only real option was to crawl into his lap, an action neither of them drew attention to. 

They sat there for a long time, Wade feeling Peter’s heartbeat against his chest, the beats racing and slowing down together as they both calmed down and just enjoyed being wrapped up in each other again. They didn’t talk about what it meant, but when the sun rose, Wade pulled back just enough to kiss Peter’s forehead, possibly the gentlest movement he’d ever made in his life, before breathing out his weaknesses in an exhausted rush. 

“I missed you  _ so much, Baby Boy.”  _

Peter grinned at him, the same cheeky little grin he used to give Wade when they were kids, and then he replied, “I thought I’d never hear anyone call me that again.” 

Parting ways that morning was difficult, made harder still by the fact that just as Peter was leaving he pulled his mask back down halfway, turned to swing toward his apartment, and stopped just before jumping, pressing a kiss to Wade’s unmasked cheek and jumping off the ledge before Wade could react, his heart racing once more, his muscles tense, and his eyes stuck on Spiderman’s retreating form with shock and mounting adoration. 

White was right, it was far too early to be thinking about it, but Wade’s train of thought fell in line with Yellow’s before he could help it. Peter was it for him. 

  
  


**Part 2, Scene 6:**

[It's been two weeks. Just fucking do something already! Your pining is driving me insane-] 

{He. Said. He. Loves. Us. What  _ the fuck are you waiting for?!? _ } 

Wade winced at the volume and looked over at Peter with a soft grin. It was the first time he'd been allowed into his apartment, like finding out Wade was Wade  _ Wilson _ opened up the floodgates for Peter's trust and life. If Wade had known, he would have done a face reveal the previous year. He might have done it from day fucking  _ one, _ if he'd known Spiderman was Peter.  _ His _ Peter. 

[Yours? Since when? You keep dragging your fucking feet-] 

{HE IS OURS, JUST KISS HIM ALREADY-} 

Peter smiled back, just as soft and Wade wanted to kiss him. He wanted to trace over soft skin and bring him close, wrap him up in his arms and draw him into Wade's lap again because it felt like Peter belonged there. It felt like they belonged together. Two pieces of a set, brought back together. Wade wanted to tell Peter all of these things but the words wouldn't form and he was slightly terrified that the kiss on his cheek from weeks ago had been a one-off sleep-deprived mistake. 

A look of concern grew on Peter's face as he asked, "Are you okay?" 

[He's been getting in the way of people that aim at you on patrol. He kissed your cheek. He crawled into your fucking lap and hugged you like it would be painful to let you go. Holy fuck, are you  _ blind? _ Even  _ I _ can see this shit- it's like you have zero common sense. Dropped on your head as a baby-?] 

Yellow sighed dreamily. {He  _ did _ do all of those things, didn't he? And we weren't even hallucinating! Crystal clear- repeated. He's  _ perfect. _ } 

"Wade." Peter's voice was serious, worried, firm. 

Wade met his eyes and his breath caught in his throat when he noticed how  _ close _ Peter was to him on the couch. When had they stopped watching the movie, when did Peter start looking at him like- 

"You've been quiet for like ten minutes and it's starting to freak me out." 

Wade snorted and breathed out roughly, relief palpable in every fiber of his being. Of course it was just that, it had nothing to do with any feelings. He grinned. "No issues here, Baby Boy, you're just-" Wade's grin twitched and  _ almost _ faltered and it felt almost like he was fighting his own face to just be chill for a minute when he finished with, "-so good. Very good. The best person, so like, I was thinking about that! And… and things? Things." Wade tried to imagine some kind of explanation but nothing came to mind and Peter was looking at him with a skeptical expression, one eyebrow raised as he squinted at him and looked him over and Wade didn't think when he said, "Good things? Like tacos! And Dr Pepper! Oreos and hoodies and- and- you. Again." 

[Congratulations. You sound like a fuck up, Jesus Christ, that was  _ painful- _ ] 

{Say something suave! Like, 'I want to taste you-'} 

[In what fucking universe is that  _ suave? _ ] 

{In this one, asshole-}

"Ummm, thank… you…?" Peter replied, voice lilting with his confusion. He let one hand rise forward to Wade's forehead and frowned. "You're a little warm. As much as I'd like to think I'm as good as oreos and hoodies, maybe you're getting sick-" 

"I think about you a lot," Wade finally blurted out, nerves set on edge the moment Peter touched him. 

That pale hand, smaller than his own, froze over his forehead and Peter's eyes widened a fraction as he looked back and forth between Wade's eyes. Wade all but stopped breathing and suddenly it was  _ very important _ to express that this wasn't a joke or a passing thought. It felt like they were having a moment and Peter was so close and Wade couldn't think straight, boxes running wild in his head to the point that he couldn't understand what they were saying and he doubted they would have been helpful anyway. 

"I… I think about you all the time. I think about the time you knocked me off a building to protect some assholes and how you still caught me with some webbing and looked panicked for half a second about whether or not I was okay. I think… I remember hearing from Clint that you loved being my friend and having me around and I just… I was _wondering_ why they were tolerating me, you know? It's not like the big guys were ever friendly _before,_ but you _knew_ how badly I wanted to work with them and you just- you _made that_ _happen._ You didn't have to-" 

"Wade, I just wanted to do something for you-" 

"But that's the thing!" Wade exclaimed, rising from the couch and walking in a circle around the coffee table as Peter followed him with his eyes. "You don't have to do any of it! But you  _ do _ because you're amazing and- and according to the newspapers you started this whole shindig like, what? Fifteen years ago? That's- you were like sixteen! I was  _ barely _ starting my military training." 

Wade's frame sagged as he went on, exhaustion lacing his form and Peter got up and walked toward him, arms raised, small steps as if he was approaching a frightened animal and Wade's words came out in a rush because he needed Peter to understand. If anyone could understand why he was so fucked over this friendship, it would be Peter. 

"You were a  _ kid _ and you did something amazing and I couldn't believe how lucky I was to have you around  _ before _ I found out who you were, but now- now it's like… you're  _ you _ and I'm… I'm-" 

He didn't get to finish speaking. One of Peter's hands gripped Wade's belt and brought their bodies together and the other found its way to the nape of Wade's neck, bringing them close, his eyes half-lidded as he made eye contact and finished speaking for Wade. "I'm me, yeah. I get that…. But you're mine." 

He finished this statement, this declaration, with a soft smile and Wade lost any semblance of self control. He closed the remaining space between them, melting into Peter at the soft press of their lips and the tiny little sigh of satisfaction Peter breathed against him as they pulled apart. 

[Oh.] 

{So this is love.} 

Peter laughed quietly and for a second Wade was terrified he'd spoken out loud, but Peter kissed him a second time and all other thoughts evaporated. There was a series of quiet whispers into the soft lighting pouring into the windows, a stumbling walk to the bedroom that neither of them really focused on as much as staying as close to the other person as possible, a clumsy tumble into Peter's bed that left them both a mess of breathless giggles and soft murmurs of reassurance that neither of them were used to. 

Wade had never felt so vulnerable and it was like Peter saw each and every one of his stray thoughts and knew just how to smile, how to touch him, how to react to this glimpse of humanity in Wade that the rest of the world was so dead set on ignoring. He may have cried that night, and Peter may have wiped away his tears and called him beautiful and maybe… just maybe… Wade kissed Peter as they moved together like inhaling him was the secret to keeping the last shreds of his sanity intact. 

Coming down from that high was exhausting, and it wasn't long before Wade was smiling down at an adorably sleepy Peter Parker, getting out of bed to clean them both up with a wet towel, and coming back only to stand awkwardly at the foot of the bed, his mask covering his modesty. 

[Oh _come on._ _He_ approached _you._ What more do you need? Does he need to get your name tattooed on his ass for you to get the point-] 

{POOL PROPERTY TRAMP STAMP-} 

[NO.] 

Wade would have laughed. Under any other circumstances, he would have laughed. The problem was that he wasn't entirely sure if Peter  _ meant _ that Wade was his. It was one thing to say it before sex, it was another to keep up the soft feels during the afterglow. If there was even an afterglow. 

Peter groaned into his own pillow and peaked one eye open to glare at Wade. "I can hear your angst from halfway across the room." 

Wade posed indecently, shifting one leg behind the other and popping out his hip to cover up how  _ called out _ he felt, pitching his voice higher to say, "I haven't the foggiest idea what you mean, sir." 

[How.  _ Embarrassing. _ Are you trying to get us killed? It feels like you want to murder all your chances-] 

{Shut up, it was cute.} 

[It was fucking not. That was the worst British accent this side of the Earth, dear fuck, I would kick someone out on principle.] 

{Bonjour-} 

[Fuck you. That's not even English-] 

Peter blinked at Wade, a slow, incredulous blink that demonstrated just how much he couldn't believe these were the kind of shenanigans he had to deal with after sex. Finally, he rolled over, his chin tilted just over his shoulder as he kept eye contact, lifted the sheets on the free side of the bed and mumbled, "I'm going to pretend that you didn't say that and that you realized just how much I want this. Bed's here. Feel free." 

[Tell me you're not throwing away your shot. It's right there. It's not normal, but it's the closest to normal we're ever going to fucking get. Just do it-] 

{I'm sorry, was that- did you just- was that a musical reference-?} 

[You fucker, I swear to Death-] 

{Omfg I love you, don't get mad.} 

[I. Hate. You.] 

{Mmhmm. Totes. I believe you.} 

Wade felt the tension leaving his muscles as he snorted at the boxes' not-argument. He let his eyes roam over Peter's back, his shoulders, his biceps, that messy nest of hair that hadn't been quite as wild when they'd started, and the bed sheets that covered his darling's lower half. 

Tentatively, he crawled back into bed-  _ Spiderman's bed! Peter Parker's bed!- _ and let his arms snake their way around the smaller guy's waist, fingers tracing the edges of his exposed abdomen before settling just beneath his chest, one hand settling over Peter's heart. He smiled into Peter's shoulder when he felt the rhythm of Petey's heartbeat speed up under his palm. 

He heard his adorable Spidey open his mouth to say something, but this time Wade beat him to it. "My heart's a little fucked on you, Webs." 

Peter snorted and Wade could feel small tremors of laughter against his chest for a minute or so before his little hero finally stopped muffling his sounds with his hand and reached up against his own chest to intertwine his fingers over Wade's. When he replied it was with a highly amused, "Well mine's fucked on you too, so… you know. Congratulations?" 

Wade muffled his own laughter into Peter's hair, remaining in that position far longer than he meant to, listening to Peter's steady breathing, watching the slight rise and fall of his chest, feeling the steadying, relaxed pulse of his heartbeat against his wrist. It was that slow, strong affirmation of Peter's existence and safety that lulled Wade to sleep. 

When Wade woke up, the first emotion he felt was shock because he  _ never _ felt well rested. The second thing he felt was fear. It wasn't fear in the natural sense, he didn't think he was in danger. No, the fear came from the realization that he had fallen asleep in Peter's bed with his arms wrapped around his special boy and when he woke up, that boy was  _ not in bed with him. _

[Calm down.] 

{ _ Why is he not here- _ } 

[Seriously, just pay attention to your surroundings. Five senses.] 

Wade breathed in to calm himself and think about the five senses, but breathing seemed to be the right thing to focus on because suddenly he could smell eggs and that meant someone in the apartment was making breakfast. Wade hid his head into a pillow and tried to calm his blushing. Peter was making him breakfast. Peter said Wade was  _ his, _ they slept together, and he hadn't been kicked out. Good signs. These were good signs. 

[Oh for the love of hell! Get up and act like the  _ grown ass man you are! _ ] 

{He said his heart was fucked on us too! That's the  _ best _ sign! It means future sexy times! Future blow-} 

Wade muffled a half-frustrated, half-embarrassed scream into Peter's pillow, giving himself a couple minutes to hug the thing nervously before finally dragging himself out of bed. He ended up wrapping the sheet around himself when he realized his clothes had been ruined the previous night and Peter didn't exactly have any clothes that fit him. 

Walking into the kitchen in a sheet felt bloody ridiculous, but all thoughts of his own appearance faded when Wade saw Peter standing in front of his stove in nothing but boxers and an old, beat up, and  _ still _ oversized Captain America hoodie. Wade's heart was having goddamn  _ palpitations _ as he realized Peter still had his hoodie from elementary school. He could still see that small, adorable little kid running around in a hoodie that had been oversized on Wade, but practically became a  _ blanket _ on his shoulders. The fact that over twenty years later, Peter had never really grown into the thing was so cute Wade thought he might die right then and there. 

He didn't quite die, though. Because he was still alive enough to hear a small hum coming from Peter's mouth as he made several servings of scrambled eggs. He was humming La Vie En Rose while he made breakfast as if the song had become a mindless habit, a daily part of his life and the words Peter said to him the day he got shot came back to him in a rush. 

_ I never forgot you. _

Peter really hadn't forgotten him, not for a moment. Wade was present in every part of his life, in the well-worn and well-cared-for hoodie, in the necklace he never stopped wearing, in his daily routine with the melody he had only ever sung to calm his Baby Boy down. Peter lived his life with Wade's presence for two  _ decades _ while Wade did his best to forget the boy he didn't want to ruin. 

Wade, stunned and honored and incredibly warm from the realization of how deeply Peter's feelings ran for him, took quick and silent strides toward him and wrapped his arms around his waist from behind, kissing the nape of his neck and locking his chin over his pretty boy's shoulder. 

[Fucking  _ finally. _ I thought it would take the kid writing you a fucking musical for you to get the point-] 

{Awwww, you ship it too? You seemed so dead set on getting away from him, but I knew you were just a big softie!} 

[I'll kill you. I fucking swear it.] 

Wade hummed along with Peter for a second, content to pretend the boxes didn't exist in his happy rosy bubble as Peter sighed happily and turned around in his arms. 

The eggs were already burning, but Peter just reached behind himself to turn off the stove as he tilted his jaw up and stood on the tips of his toes to kiss Wade, just a small press of their lips. Wade smiled into the kiss and just held onto him, amazed that he could have this person, that  _ his sweet, precious, strong Peter wanted him.  _

When they pulled away, all Wade managed to say was a quiet and pained, "I thought I'd never see you again." 

Peter blinked, staring at Wade with a look that showed more than just the memory of fear, it was almost like seeing a painting of loneliness, the sensation of abandonment clear in sweet brown eyes. His hands came up to tangle themselves into Wade's shirt, fists latched onto the fabric as he confessed, "I thought so too." 

There was a raw level of honesty, openness, on his face that Wade felt like he had to meet. He took a few desperate, shaky seconds to just breathe Peter in. 

When he had the opportunity to speak without apologizing for his absence, it was a mere whisper of his feelings, a savagely honest, "I love you," that didn't express even a tenth of the storm brewing in his ribcage, words that slipped out before he could even process them or how little they meant in the face of this new reality. 

But Peter didn't seem to need an explanation, and all of those buried truths could come later. Instead, Wade received another one of those soft, heart-stopping kisses and an admission from Petey that made him feel weak and entirely,  _ helplessly _ , unprepared. 

Peter smiled at him, brought Wade's hand to his chest to feel the rapid-fire pace of his heart, and whispered a quiet declaration. "Wade, I… I loved you since we were kids. I just didn't know what it was. And I didn't-" 

[Since… you were… kids. How the fuck-?] 

{I love him so much I could fucking burst, he's so precious,  _ protect- _ } 

Peter looked away from him, close but almost embarrassed in his hold as he added, "I thought no one could ever make me feel safe again. I loved people. But none of them ever- you were… no one could ever be  _ you. _ And then I met Deadpool and I got that same feeling and I thought I could-" 

Peter's skin was taking on a bright hue of red and Wade was enamored, in love,  _ gone _ as he asked, "You thought you could what?" 

Peter laughed and buried his face into Wade's neck as he mumbled, "I thought I could let you go. But you're Deadpool so fuck me, right?" 

"As you wish, Baby Boy," Wade replied with a wide smirk. 

He was promptly punched in the shoulder, but it was  _ worth it. _ Mostly because despite the aggression, Petey didn't pull away from him.

"You suck," Peter accused. He paused for half a second and then added, "And you're not wearing any clothes." 

Wade nodded. "I suck and I'm not wearing any clothes," he agreed. "Unless the sheet counts. Because the sheet totally counts." 

Peter glared up at him with a cherry red blush. "The sheets do not count." 

"They do." 

"They don't." 

"I love you." 

Peter's face flamed up even further and he stubbornly glared at Wade for a few more seconds, maybe a total of five, before he broke and a tiny smile cracked his angry facade. "That's  _ cheating," _ he mumbled. "I can't even-- I don't know how to be mad at you." 

Wade snorted into his hair, comfortable in his position and perfectly content to lose the hours of the morning to smothering Peter Parker, singing his mother's version of La Vie En Rose into his ear the way he had the day they met. 

_ Des yeux qui font baisser les miens _

_ Un rire qui se perd sur sa bouche _

_ Voilà le portrait sans retouches _

_ De l'homme auquel j'appartiens _

_ Quand il me prend dans ses bras _

_ Il me parle tout bas _

_ Je vois la vie en rose  _

**Author's Note:**

> This fic has been in progress for a LONG time. I actually finished long before the due date, but it's a bang and TODAY IS THE POSTING DAY! 
> 
> Beta'd by Dee (thank you for all the help, hope you enjoyed) as per event rules! 
> 
> Many thanks to Chez, our lovely artist who did not just one art piece for this fic, but THREE. I adore you, you did amazing! 
> 
> Anyway, this fic is a lot softer than the theme I usually go for-- if you've migrated over from my previous works you sort of already know <3\. That being said, I really needed a fic where they had a previous connection, something so obvious and simple that it couldn't possibly be misunderstood. I needed the emotional attachment to the song, the necklace, the hoodie. I hope you all had as much fun reading it as I had going through it again for posting day! 
> 
> Much love, 
> 
> Katana.


End file.
